


In Hell I'll Be in Good Company

by Amaroq



Series: Long Road to Eden [1]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Drug Abuse, Eating Disorders, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mercy Killing, Past Drug Addiction, Past Drug Use, Resist Ending (Far Cry), Slow Burn, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2020-11-02 09:16:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 79,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20696612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaroq/pseuds/Amaroq
Summary: Jacob Seed was the last person on Earth Hyrum wanted to be stuck in a bunker with. But clearly God planned his life better than he did, because now he was indeed trapped with the former Herald of Whitetail Mountains. Making matters worse, Joseph had been right - the Collapse had come, setting the world ablaze.





	1. God isn't on your side

**Author's Note:**

> Alright then mates, I have no idea how long this is gonna be, so buckle up.  
This idea has been brewing for a while, and now I'm happy to say that I know where I'm going with this.  
Enjoy!

The explosion rattled the bunker and the bedrock rumbled, making the metallic structures creak loudly. Hyrum’s heart was in his throat as he ran through the Wolf’s Den, heading for the main hatch to close it. He banged his shin against something but didn’t stop to look what it was. As he ascended the stairs, he heard yet another explosion, and he could see the sky turning red and filling with smoke. Darkness was spreading over the Whitetail Mountains, but he didn’t wait for it to fall. Instead, he chose to slam the hatch shut and lock it before doubling back to the bottom of the stairs.

Hyrum’s leg was aching, and blood started to soak into his trousers. He was nearly hyperventilating when he fell to his knees, and as he pressed his hands against his face, tears were already flowing down his cheeks. He could barely breathe as the adrenaline hummed in his veins and his heart was tearing through his ears. Lights flickered, and he prayed that they’d stay on since he didn’t have the strength to go and look for a flashlight.

It was pure luck that Hyrum was in the Wolf’s Den, and he was glad he was safe, for now at least. The world was most likely ending, and he wasn’t even sure if he’d survive it. A dry laugh escaped his throat as he realized that Joseph had been right all along. Joining Eden’s Gate didn’t feel so stupid anymore, and he wondered if the Deputy was thinking the same thing. Had the Deputy known that Joseph was right, he wouldn’t have destroyed their bunkers.

Hyrum missed Wheaty, Tammy and everyone else. He didn’t know where they were, and why they’d abandoned Wolf’s Den. Maybe it had something to do with Joseph, or with the Deputy, or with Eli’s death. But they were all gone, and for the first time in months. he felt as crushing loneliness weighed him down. He didn’t know how much sorrow he could take, because in a matter of days everything he’d fought for had been torn apart.

Lost. It was the right word for what he was feeling. The future seemed bleak and dark, and all he could see was nothingness. He was standing at the edge of a deep, dark pit of despair, afraid that even the slightest gush of wind could make him fall.

At some point, Hyrum’s tears ran out, and his sobs grew dry. His chest heaved, as he wiped his tears on his sleeve drawing shuddering breaths. The young Whitetail felt like screaming, but he held his screams back, and instead, he got up and leaned against the wall, finding its coldness comforting. He thought that at least he wouldn’t burn alive because it sounded like the world was — he could hear crackling and a constant, low rumble coming from the surface.

Against his better judgment he started to aimlessly pace around the bunker, feeling like a trapped animal. He was afraid he would be unable to stop himself, and that he would go in circles until he would exhaust himself with useless pacing. Not quite sure what he should do, he wandered to the command center, and stared at the static in the TV screens, disheartened by the fact that the cameras weren’t working.

The rustling of the static sounded awful, and when Hyrum couldn’t listen to it anymore, he switched off the TVs. For a moment he leaned against the desk, staring at the paperwork laid on top of it. It was now useless, and he knew he’d have to throw it away at some point. All of Eli’s plans were now obsolete, and every single hour he’d spent on protecting the Whitetails had been for naught. Jacob had got to him, despite his best attempts.

Being unaware of what was happening above was nauseating. It could be weeks, months, or even years before it was safe to back to the surface. Panic scraped at Hyrum’s throat, but he pushed it down, knowing very well that panicking would only do harm. He’d already wasted valuable time and energy by crying.

When he passed Wheaty’s workstation, he looked away so he wouldn’t have to think about him and headed for the bathroom. He held his breath as he turned on the tap, afraid that there was no running water anymore. There was, and he sighed in relief as the cold water pooled into his hands. For a moment he stood there, and the numbness had already started to tingle at his fingertips when he finally washed his face, rinsing off the dried tears from his cheeks and the sweat from his forehead.

All Hyrum wanted to do was to take a hot shower and cry himself to sleep, but he knew he had things to do, so he turned off the water and took a small towel from the dresser next to the sink. He glanced at the mirror, noting that he looked like he’d been to hell and back. The last twelve hours or so had been extremely difficult. The proverbial rug had been pulled from underneath his feet.

Strands of hair had escaped, so Hyrum pulled off his hairband and walked out of the bathroom. He collected his hair and began braiding it, cringing as his fingers got caught on a tangle. After managing to braid his frizzled hair, he made a mental note of brushing it at some point, when he didn’t have more important things to do. Taking a deep breath he headed for the kitchen, with fear hooking his stomach into his chest.

As Hyrum crossed the kitchen, avoiding the small puddles of blood spotting the floor, he could hear a clank coming from the adjoining room. Stifling the urge to take his gun from its holster, he stepped inside the storage room, which had previously doubled as a bedroom. Hyrum’s stomach dropped as he laid his eyes yet again on the last person on Earth he wanted to be stuck in a bunker with.

Jacob Seed.

It was ironic that the bunker was called a Wolf’s Den, even though the members of the militia were called Whitetails. But now Jacob was there, and Hyrum felt like a deer trapped in the same cage with a wolf. Jacob was right there where he’d left him, leaning against a metallic shelf, his eyes glazed and his skin pale as he clutched his fatigues laid on his lap. The only difference was that he’d managed to pull his bloodied jeans back on.

Hyrum had been shocked to find the redhead laying on the bunker floor just few hours prior, and despite everything Jacob had done and without thinking the possible repercussions, he had helped the redhead. He wasn’t sure which one of them had been more surprised by it. Hyrum had a plethora of questions for Jacob, but alas, he didn’t have the courage to ask them.

When he’d stopped the bleeding, cleaned Jacob’s wounds and sutured some of them, he’d offered him painkillers. Naturally Jacob had refused to take anything for the pain and Hyrum didn’t know if he was just plain stupid, or if he really was that unbothered by the pain, but he guessed it was the former.

He was bewildered how unaffected Jacob seemed, even though the explosions had echoed inside the bunker and he must’ve heard them. He was eerily calm, and it made the blood freeze in his veins. Maybe it was an act, or maybe he was secretly glad that the Collapse had come, or maybe he just didn’t give a shit.

Jacob was always talking about sacrificing the weak, but Hyrum had no idea just how strong, or prideful Jacob truly was. When he’d flushed the wounds and mechanically scraped the dirt from the large, jagged gash on the redhead’s thigh, he hadn’t even blinked. There had been only one thing which revealed that he was actually in pain — his dilated pupils. It was the one physical reaction Jacob couldn’t control, no matter how much he wanted to.

Hyrum closed the gap between them and squatted next to the former Herald, bringing a hand on his shoulder. Jacob snapped his head up and he let out a low snarl, and for a moment Hyrum was sure he’d attack. Instead he just shifted his gaze and let out an exasperated sigh. Maybe startling a veteran possibly suffering from PTSD wasn’t a smart thing to do and Hyrum scolded himself for being an idiot.

As he caressed the man’s shoulder, he had to admit that it was a pathetic attempt to console him. To be honest, he didn’t even know why he was trying to console him — after all Jacob had killed Eli and his family had torn through Hope County, reaping everything. But Hyrum thought that even so, Jacob didn’t deserve to suffer.

“You should take something for the pain,” he said, his tone persuasive as he stared at the blood-stained floor.

“No,” Jacob hissed. Hyrum dug his fingers into his shoulder, making him wince, and he could feel the muscles tensing under his hand.

“Joseph isn’t here right now, so you can drop the act,” he said, before standing up. Jacob was grief-stricken; Hyrum could see it in his eyes, but it wasn’t a good enough excuse to not ease the pain he was feeling. It was also extremely pathetic of Hyrum to use Joseph’s name as a weapon, and he knew it. It was a low move, but if it would make Jacob accept the painkillers, it was worth it.

Hyrum groaned as he rolled his shoulders. His back was aching, and his muscles were stiff. He knew he should’ve paid attention to his posture while suturing, but hindsight being what it was, all he could do was to try and take it easy. And take a hot shower at some point.

Despite Jacob’s probable objections, Hyrum went back to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and a box of Targin from a table, where he’d left them earlier. He returned to Jacob and threw them next to him without saying a word, before leaving again.

He couldn’t be around Jacob, as he was sure the Seeds had orchestrated the Collapse — one way or another. Not knowing exactly what had happened, he wasn’t sure how likely his theory even was. But whatever had caused the explosions, he was having difficulties believing they were a coincidence. As far as Joseph knew, his whole family was dead, and Hyrum believed he’d wanted retaliation, hence the bombs.

What came of families, Hyrum was sure his own was gone. His parents, his sisters and his brother — all dead. He knew he should’ve felt something, but he wasn’t even happy. All the years hoping for their untimely deaths, he didn’t give a shit now that they were gone. All the wrath he’d held was now dissipated, and all that was left was an echo that pulsated within his chest.

The leather couch creaked as Hyrum threw himself on it. He stared at the black TV screen, which had previously shown on loop the clip of Jacob torturing Staci. Now the only thing he saw was the silhouette of his own distorted reflection.

All the lights were on in the bunker, but Hyrum couldn’t be bothered to think about conserving power, even though he knew very well he should. There was a high chance that Hope County was obliterated, or at least most of it. He wasn’t going to go and check anytime soon, though. He knew the Wolf’s Den had solar panels, but he had no idea if the sunlight could even reach them, or if they were even there anymore.

The thought of staying underground indefinitely was horrifying, especially when the only company Hyrum had was Jacob. He knew that the rational thing to do was to make a truce with him, but he didn’t know if he could do that. He hated Jacob. He hated how Joseph and his whole family had destroyed everything. They were unhinged killers, that was a fact.

But it was also a fact that Hyrum was glad he wasn’t alone.

He couldn’t help but feel pity towards Jacob, and he detested himself because of it. Losing one’s family must be hard, but Hyrum wouldn’t know. He had only experienced loss on a smaller scale; friendships dying, relationships ending… He’d never lost a family member he cared about, and he couldn’t imagine how it felt. Sure, Whitetails were like a family, but he hadn’t known them for long enough to be a part of their family. He felt like he’d been merely an acquaintance, or at best, a co-worker.

Hyrum knew he had to do something, so he stood and went for the cupboards in the corner of the kitchen. As a nurse he knew Jacob would have to drink and eat because he was recovering, which is why he dug around and took out a pack of jerky, thinking that it was probably something Jacob liked. If he could have turned off the overpowering instinct to take care of others, even Jacob Seed, he would have probably done it.

But no matter how hard he tried to not care, he did. Nursing was second nature to him, something that couldn’t be stopped or chained. And during a catastrophe, the only thing that mattered was helping people. You didn’t stop and ask their sins — that was something he had learned from his father.

Trying not to startle the former Herald again, Hyrum knocked on the steel doorframe. Jacob turned his head, sneering at him. He took a mental note of changing out of his Whitetail uniform because he wouldn’t like to see the Eden’s Gate cross everywhere, so maybe Jacob was uncomfortable seeing the insignia he was carrying.

Hyrum stood in the doorway, shifting his weight about, and he noticed that Jacob had drunk half a bottle of water, and the box of Targin was opened. He met his blue eyes, and for a second he felt like turning his gaze away. But Jacob held no power anymore, and even though Hyrum had never fallen victim to his conditioning, he’d seen how much damage he was able to do. So he tried to keep his cool and pretend he wasn’t intimidated by Jacob. Which he was.

And Jacob could see right through him.

“You should eat,” Hyrum said quietly, breaking the silence.

“Why?”

Hyrum was surprised by the question, so he walked inside and dithered for a second or so before he sat down close to Jacob. The floor was cold, but he just cringed as he crossed his legs and handed the jerky to Jacob. His eyes narrowed, but he took it, causing their hands to accidentally touch. Jacob ignored the way the younger man flinched and let out a weird, throaty whine. For some reason, Jacob felt a twinge of guilt about it, which he quickly knocked aside, and focused on opening the pack.

“Isn’t it weak to give up?” Hyrum asked, trying to keep his hands steady. He could’ve sworn that a smile tugged at the corners of Jacob’s lips.

“It is. You’ve been listening to my broadcasts?”

“It was impossible not to hear some of them,” Hyrum said and turned to look at his hands, not wanting to admit that he had in fact heard all of them. It wasn’t that he didn’t agree with some of the things the Seeds said, but their methods were something he couldn’t agree with. There was blood under his fingernails, and he started to scrape it off, swallowing down the panic climbing up his throat.

But then again, Hyrum had killed a lot of Peggies, so was he any better than the Seeds? He couldn’t say. Eli had told the Whitetails over and over again, that what they were doing was different, but Hyrum couldn’t help but wonder otherwise. Killing was killing, no matter how you twisted it, and he knew that the end didn’t necessarily justify the means.

Hyrum wanted to take his mind off what was happening on the surface, so he turned his attention back to Jacob, and said, “Rules.” He didn’t know if it was the loneliness or the knowledge that the world had gone to shit, but he needed to make something akin to a truce. Of course, he wanted to stay alive, and he knew that if they were on the same page, it was far more likely that he’d stay that way.

“What?” Jacob asked and glanced at Hyrum, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“We should talk about rules,” he replied softly.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Jacob said, his tone meek. He flinched as the Whitetail suddenly started to remove his thigh holster, and uncertainty washed over him. Biting his lip, Hyrum laid the gun between them, locking eyes with Jacob.

“It’s loaded,” he said, leaning back.

A shiver ran down Jacob’s spine, and he scratched his cheek in a nervous motion. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jacob eyed the gun, but as his shoulders relaxed, so did Hyrum. It was clear that he wasn’t going to do anything, but why Hyrum felt like trusting him, was beyond him. Jacob laid the pack of jerky on the floor next to him and ran his fingers through his hair. It was a struggle not to look at the gun, to fight against his instincts, but Jacob managed to do it.

“Staying down here with a rotting corpse doesn’t sound tempting,” he said and smiled with way too many teeth. It was a tasteless joke, but it made Hyrum laugh quietly.

“Ditto,” he said, promising to himself that his days of killing were over. All the fighting, killing, destruction… All for what? Nothing. Joseph had been right, and he hoped that, wherever the preacher was, he knew it.

“So… No killing each other,” Jacob said. Hyrum nodded, and he realized that Jacob was far more human than he’d thought. His voice, which had been so intimidating before, was now just a voice, and it didn’t even have the same tempo as it once had. If Hyrum didn’t know who Jacob was, he wouldn’t have been afraid of him. He was just a man and seeing it made him sad.

Hyrum examined the former Herald carefully, letting his eyes glide over his scarred skin blotched by scabs, cuts, and bruises. Under his scruffiness and his scars, he was a man with balanced features. In another life, Hyrum would’ve called him handsome. There wasn’t actually a lot that he knew about Jacob, only that he’d been in Iraq and Afghanistan, and that he’d supposedly eaten someone. That was pretty much it since he was never one for gossip.

“Do you believe in God?” Jacob suddenly asked, tilting his head to the side.

“What? Why do you ask?”

Jacob chortled. “You have a tattoo of a cross on your neck.” Instinctively Hyrum lifted his hand and brushed his fingers against the sweaty skin on his neck. “I saw it when you were suturing.”

“Oh, yeah. I do.”

“What’s that passage?”

“You don’t know?” Hyrum asked and flicked his eyes to Jacob.

“No,” he said and grinned. “Joseph was…” He paused and he drew a sharp breath, his eyes falling half-shut. He looked like he’d been kicked. “ _ Is  _ the one who knows the Bible by heart,” he continued finally, his voice strained from his slipup. There was no evidence that Joseph was dead, and until Jacob saw his lifeless body himself, he swore he would never talk about him like he was already gone.

Hyrum let his arm flop down, and he breathed out slowly, watching as Jacob struggled to keep his composure.

“Revelations, chapter twenty-one, verse four,” he began.  _ “He will wipe all tears from their eyes, and there will be no more death, suffering, crying, or pain. These things of the past are gone forever.” _

Jacob nodded and blinked rapidly. For some reason, Hyrum’s cadence was similar to Joseph’s, and his soft voice had the same, serene tone to it. It felt like Jacob’s heart was being torn into pieces. He didn’t know what Joseph had been like in his twenties, but he could’ve been something like Hyrum was — kind and warm. Ready to welcome everyone with open arms.

For a moment they sat in silence, Jacob staring into nothingness, and Hyrum biting his tongue, as he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes off the redhead. There was nothing he could say, and he felt like shit for wanting to help Jacob. Hyrum was exhausted, not just physically, but also mentally. Hating someone intensely was burdensome.

Part of him wanted to show the man, that he was more than a shell, that he had a past, feelings, and that he too could be hurt. He couldn’t say why, but he wanted to do it. He needed Jacob to know that he knew what it was like to suffer. But he decided to leave the extent of his suffering out, thinking that it was a story for another time if that time would ever come.

Hyrum rolled up his sleeve enough to reveal part of his left arm, and as he held it out, Jacob turned to look. His eyes latched on a four-inch-long, red, jagged scar running diagonally from Hyrum’s wrist upwards. Without thinking, Jacob wrapped his fingers around the man’s forearm, making him shiver. He pressed his thumb against the scar and brushed over the small tattoo seated next to it.

“And this one?” he asked, his voice soft and his eyes conveying an emotion that Hyrum couldn’t recognize, as he flicked his eyes up. For Hyrum, it was easy to hate someone from afar, but when they were there, vulnerable and human, it was far more difficult to hang on to hate.

“Job, chapter five, verse twenty-six.  _ You will live a very long life, and your body will be strong until the day you die. _ ” Hyrum’s green eyes gleamed as he spoke, and he brushed a curl of auburn-colored hair from his forehead.

The silence that followed his words wasn’t awkward. It was just silence. Hyrum stared at his own arm, pushing back the familiar feelings of anxiety and regret, which always hit him upon seeing the damage he’d done to himself. And it always took him back to that night, whether he wanted it or not.

“I thought about killing myself when I got back from war,” Jacob said quietly with the southern drawl creeping to his voice.

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Because it’s weak,” Hyrum said, assuming it was the case. Jacob’s grip tightened and he looked at the Whitetail with a pained expression on his face. He shook his head slowly.

“No. Sin or not, taking your own life… It’s not weak. I couldn’t do it, because I was scared.” His voice sounded pained, like he was struggling to speak. Hyrum didn’t know why he shared something like that, but at that moment he knew that he’d wrongly judged Jacob. There was more to him than just culling the herd and sacrificing the weak.

“Well, it was a mistake trying,” Hyrum finally said, leaving out the fact that it wasn’t the only mistake like it. He’d paid a price for all of them, and it dawned on him, that if he hadn’t tried to kill himself nine months prior, he wouldn’t have ended up in Hope County. Maybe God did have a plan for him after all because now he just might survive the Collapse, or the apocalypse, or whatever the hell it was.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Jacob said quietly, and he slackened his grip. Hyrum wasn’t scared, just perplexed and nervous by Jacob’s feverish skin against his. The former Herald sighed and let go, leaving unspoken words to hang in the air.

“You have to eat,” Hyrum said and stood, leaving the gun on the floor on purpose. “Just… Holler me if you need something. You can have the other room in the hallway, it’s close to the bathroom. Tell me if you need help or something…”

“It may feel like God isn’t on your side,” Jacob said out of the blue. Hyrum stared down at him, as he lifted his eyes up to meet his. Jacob was quiet for a moment, noting how the Whitetail’s eyes were slightly too big for his face, before continuing, “But He is.” Hyrum swallowed, trying to get rid of the frog in his throat, as Jacob’s face was twisted by grief.

“I know,” he lied, nearly choking, before turning around and darting out of the storage room with tears burning behind his eyelids.

Eli had been right. He was too soft.

***

After going around the bunker for hours on end with a notepad and a pen, counting supplies and avoiding Jacob, Hyrum finally caved in and began to settle in for the first night. He left the notepad in the kitchen, double-checking his calculations. The supplies would last for a year, year and a half between the two of them. Taking inventory had been a good distraction, but now that Hyrum’s mind wasn’t full of cans and jars and medical supplies, he began to grow restless and panic started to uncoil in the pit of his stomach.

At some point, Jacob had managed to drag his ass to Tammy’s old bedroom, and as Hyrum passed it with a toothbrush in his hand, he stopped. Jacob was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head bowed, and his hands clasped, pressed against his forehead. His lips moved as he recited a silent prayer, and suddenly Hyrum felt more than awkward, so he snuck away, completely unaware that Jacob had seen him. The former Herald stared after him, listening to his soft footsteps echoing in the hallway with a smile on his face.

Jacob didn’t know if Joseph was alive, but he was determined to find out and he wouldn’t give up until he knew for sure. He would tear down every bunker if necessary, just so he could get closure. Jacob didn’t know how long it would take before he could go back to the surface, so he decided it was for the best if he would rest for now.

He was supposed to be Joseph’s sacrifice, and he’d given everything for his brother, except his life. When the Deputy had left him, Jacob had been unconscious. He’d finally woken up in the middle of the night, hurting all over. He’d stumbled around in the moonlight, and his eyes had fixated on the small light flickering between the trees. And at that moment when Jacob descended the stairs, he had laughed, as he realized that he’d finally found the Wolf’s Den.

It was too late, but he’d finally found it.


	2. It's weak, that's what it is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have like a bunch of chapters planned, but as usual my schedule is weird, so don't hold your breath waiting for the next one.  
Well, anyways, enjoy my lovelies!

The fourth morning that came was surprisingly calm, and as Hyrum threw his feet on the floor, he wasn’t anxious like he’d been all the other mornings. He could hear sounds coming from the kitchen, and his heart clenched as he realized it was just Jacob. There had been a time when the Wolf’s Den had been busy with people going back and forth, with laughter and chatter filling the air. Being the social butterfly that he was, he missed it, and the oppressing emptiness of the bunker scared him.

As there was no reason to sit still, he stood, grabbing a pair of faded jeans and an olive-green t-shirt, both a tad too big for his slender figure. He dressed quickly, keeping his eyes peeled on the doorway as he yanked his boots on. Hyrum knew he should continue taking inventory, but like every morning, the smell of coffee led him to the kitchen.

He’d been slacking off with the supplies; most of the time he’d been reading, or just sitting and mulling over the situation, even though he knew it wouldn’t help.

It was still nearly impossible to understand, that the man dressed in jeans and a hoodie sitting at the table was the same person as the bloodied soldier. Jacob didn’t say anything, as Hyrum crept inside the kitchen, leaving ample space between them. He did hear him coming, though, he just wasn’t especially interested in acknowledging the Whitetail.

“Are you making coffee?”

Jacob jerked his head towards the coffee maker in the corner. “Just made some. Help yourself.”

“Thank you,” Hyrum replied quietly, and he hugged the walls as he made his way to the corner, glancing at Jacob constantly.

It was the same dance they danced every morning, and Hyrum found it comforting. He could trust in the fact that Jacob was up early, and that he’d always wake up to the smell of coffee. Which, frankly, was something that he’d gotten used to with the Whitetails. Except before it was Wheaty making the coffee and chirping ‘good morning’ over and over again as people climbed out of their beds, or arrived at the Wolf’s Den.

Their interactions had been extremely limited, with only a few words exchanged in the mornings, and when Hyrum changed Jacob’s dressings. That was pretty much it because neither of them knew what to say. Otherwise, Hyrum had steered clear, and he had no idea what Jacob was doing all day. Not that he cared. At least not enough to indulge in a conversation with him.

Hyrum poured himself half a mug, just because he wasn’t making the same mistake of having a full mug twice. He didn’t know how, but Jacob managed to make the coffee so strong that it felt like it burned through his stomach.

Like usual, Jacob was flipping through a book, with an unlit cigarette in his hand. The bunker had ventilation, that was for sure, but neither of them wanted to try how long it would take for the cigarette smoke to clear. So Jacob settled with holding a cigarette and Hyrum dealt with his cravings by pacing around and fiddling with something, suffering in the hands of his nicotine addiction.

“Jacob…” Hyrum started, inching closer.

“Mmh?” The man didn’t even lift his eyes from his book.

“Could you help with the supplies at some point? I thought I’d reorganize the storage room today, and move some stuff there, but I can’t reach the top shelves properly.” That caught Jacob’s attention, and he turned his head, scanning Hyrum from head to toe.

“Sure. Meant to ask yesterday, but where’s the ledger?” Jacob asked, deciding that it was time for him to start working, instead of resting.

“Here,” Hyrum replied and took the notepad from a drawer, holding his breath as he walked to Jacob and laid it in front of him. Jacob smiled at the neatly-made notes, written in perfect cursive. It seemed like they were both organized because as Jacob laid down his book to leaf through the notes, he realized that the ledger was extremely well done.

“This is good, kiddo,” Jacob said with a smile.

“I sure hope so,” Hyrum replied and let out a soft chuckle, hoping his tone didn’t reveal how pleased he was. “I learned a lot when I worked in Africa because the supplies were a bit scarce there. Had to make every one of them count.” Jacob turned his head and his eyes narrowed as he searched for a hint of deception, but he couldn’t find any. It sounded absurd, that the meek-mannered man had been working there. Jacob sipped at his coffee and hummed, leering at the man over his mug.

“What were you doing there?”

“Volunteer work. Mostly HIV awareness, but we did a lot of other stuff too,” Hyrum explained while setting his coffee mug on the table. He began to collect his hair, which was flowing down his back to make a quick, messy bun. The soft curls reached almost his shoulder blades, and for whatever reason, Jacob couldn’t look away.

“It must’ve been dangerous,” he replied and pulled up a chair for the Whitetail, his gaze still lingering. The table was annoyingly small, but then again, there were only two of them.

“Not really,” Hyrum said and sat down stiffly, grabbing his coffee mug. “The locals were kind. And we spent the majority of our time in rural areas, which are relatively safe.”

“It’s the bigger, metropolitan areas which are dangerous, right?”

Hyrum nodded. “Wealth is unevenly distributed, so that causes problems.” Jacob hummed again and turned his attention back to the ledger. He cringed upon seeing the amount of spam they had. It wasn’t bad, exactly, but the consistency was disgusting. At least they had a lot of coffee, enough for at least two years if they drank it in moderation.

“What’s your name?” Jacob suddenly asked, still leafing through the notepad, but he was now scribbling his own notes along the edges. He realized he had no idea what the man was called, and even though referring to him as ‘kiddo’ was an option, it was weird that he didn’t know his name.

“Hyrum.”

“Isn’t that a Mormon name?” the redhead asked and frowned at the notes, realizing just how little supplies there was, considering that the Whitetails hadn’t been a small group. There had to be either something missing, or they hadn’t been keen preppers. Which was difficult to believe, as Eli had seemed like a smart guy. For a second Jacob considered the possibility that Hyrum had made a mistake, but he shook it off, as it didn’t really seem likely.

“It is,” Hyrum replied slowly, tapping his finger against the mug. “So how does the ledger look? How fucked are we?” It was weird having a civil conversation with Jacob, but then again, survival was their first priority, not tussling over the past. Then again, the past  _ was _ there; a constant heavy weight on their shoulders.

“Well… We’re not fucked that’s for sure. Of course, it’s nothing compared to  _ my _ bunker, but still.” Jacob’s tone was full of blame, but as he had no one to direct it at, it ended up hanging awkwardly in the air.

“What if the surface isn’t accessible when the supplies run out?”

“That’s something you don’t have to concern yourself with,” the former Herald said, and his tone was strict. Hyrum just nodded, knowing that from the two of them, Jacob was probably far more experienced, so it was only logical that he just did what was told. “But what you can do, is to take care of the medical supplies.”

“Okay.”

“I assume you have some sort of qualification, or something, given that you know how to suture. You a med student?” Jacob didn’t want to admit out loud that the work Hyrum had done was impeccable, if not perfect — the sutures were nice and pretty, so he was clearly experienced.

Hyrum laughed and shook his head. “I’m a nurse.” Jacob flicked his eyes to him, and he wanted to ask was he serious, but his unwavering stare was answer enough. He propped his elbows against the table and tucked the pen he was holding behind his ear.

“Drink your coffee and we’ll start organizing.”

“What about the guns? Should we check them?” Hyrum was nervous, but he tried to keep his voice level. Knowing that there were loaded guns easily accessible was a terrifying thought. So many things could go wrong.

“Yeah, it’s the smart thing to do,” Jacob said. He stared at the notepad and bit his lip. “Look, if you start moving the stuff, I’ll take care of the weapons.” It didn’t slip by Jacob unnoticed, how Hyrum breathed out in relief, and how his shoulders relaxed. It was weird that guns made him nervous, but maybe there was a reason for it, maybe not. Nevertheless, Jacob felt like he should be in charge of the weapons; after all his own armory had been far larger, so the small room would be easy to keep in check. And if Jacob was being honest, he didn’t trust the Whitetail enough to leave him in charge. As far as he was concerned, the bunker and all the supplies it held, was now the property of Eden’s Gate. It was a good bunker, and Jacob decided that when he’d find Joseph, he’d bring him there.

Jacob made a mental note of talking about security in case someone would come to the bunker. It didn’t matter if it was going to be a week, or a month, or a year from now. They needed to be prepared, so Jacob flipped a clean page from the notepad and began to draw the floor plan of the bunker, marking the exits first. It hadn’t taken him long to memorize the layout, because in the end, it was pretty simple.

“So, you know how to handle guns,” Jacob said. “What about knives? Bow?”

“Knives, yeah. I’ve never used a bow in my life.”

“That’s easy enough to learn,” Jacob muttered, scribbling the word  _ armory _ on the floor plan. He thought about giving the Whitetail a gun, for security purposes, but he wasn’t comfortable with the idea. He would just have to trust that no one could get inside Wolf’s Den.

“Can I ask something?”

“Sure.”

“What are you doing?”

Jacob turned to look at Hyrum, his blue eyes drilling straight through him. “What I do best, and that is taking care of security. I’ll explain later when I have the plans ready.” Hyrum didn’t ask why he couldn’t explain immediately, so he just turned his attention back to his coffee and stared at the steaming, black liquid.

Every time he didn’t have something to concentrate on, his mind started to wander, and panic and anxiety began to scratch at his insides. Each night he’d cried himself to sleep, stifling his sobs with a pillow, so Jacob wouldn’t hear him. At some point, there wouldn’t be any organizing or anything useful left to do, and it was a harrowing thought. But the time hadn’t come yet, so Hyrum finished his coffee and stood, flinching as the chair screeched against the floor.

“Be careful with your wounds, and take it easy,” he said. Jacob was surprised by his stern tone, but he just nodded, letting it slide. Even though he found it annoying that the Whitetail was ordering him around.

Hyrum decided to start from the first hallway closest to the stairs, and as he stared at the shelves he groaned. The messy state they were in had bothered him for months. The cluttered bunker was as messy as his mind, and he could only hope that cleaning and organizing it would clear up his head also.

He picked up a box of canned vegetables, nearly keeling over because of the weight, and made his way into the storage room. As he passed the kitchen, he glanced inside to see Jacob still sitting there, tapping the pen against the table.

For the next few hours, Hyrum carried several boxes of food, water, tools, and whatnot into the storage room from all over the bunker. When he felt like his arms were going to fall off, he started to reorganize the shelves. Food cans and everything else that was heavy, he left on the bottom shelves, mostly because he didn’t have the strength to lift them up very high. The boxes that were high up, he left untouched, thinking it was probably safer if Jacob took care of them.

There were several boxes taped shut and scattered on the floor, so Hyrum opened them one by one and glanced inside to decide where the contents belonged. He started smiling when he found a large box filled to the brim with packets of rice. As long as they had electricity, they could cook it. But because of the uncertainty of how long they’d have electricity, he decided to cook some of it soon. It had been days since he’d had a warm meal. A proper warm meal, not the lukewarm clumpy mess he was forced to eat.

The work was boring, so after holding back a while, Hyrum started to hum by himself, hoping it would make the time pass quicker. It didn’t, but it eased his boredom and gave his mind something to do as he tried to recall as many songs as he could, reciting the lyrics in his head.

Whoever had been responsible for the supplies earlier, had been a slob — medical supplies were scattered around the room, so Hyrum picked up an empty cardboard box and started to collect gauzes, suture kits, and medications in it. They had a good supply of antibiotics, painkillers and antiseptic, but there wasn’t a lot of bandages or dressings. But after all food and water were their priorities, and as long as there was running water and Hyrum could take showers and eat, he was content. It wasn’t like they could get hurt in the bunker. At least not badly.

“It looks good.”

Hyrum nearly jumped out of his skin and clutched at his chest, his breathing hitching. Jacob raised his eyebrows and leaned against the doorframe, amusement curling his lips into a smile. “You’ve done well, kiddo. Come on, let’s take a break and have some more coffee. It’s not like this stuff is going anywhere.” His hand lingered on top of his wound, as he pushed himself upright and winced. “So the weapons are all accounted for, organized and unloaded.”

“Good,” Hyrum replied as he followed Jacob into the kitchen. He darted straight towards the full pot of coffee, his mouth already watering. Before moving to Hope County and joining the Whitetails, he’d never cared for coffee — but now he hoped it would never run out. The long nights tending the wounded and fighting Peggies had forced him to drink coffee to stay awake and sharp.

“I’ll check your wounds in a bit,” he said, pouring coffee into his mug.

“Can I ask you something?” Jacob asked, taking the pot from Hyrum. He didn’t wait for a response, before continuing, “How’d you end up in Hope County?” He was sickeningly curious about the Whitetail, mostly because he was the only thing in the bunker that still held some sort of mystery in Jacob’s eyes.

“My friend lived in Missoula, so I went there after selling my apartment in Utah. Things happened, and well, we ended up with the Whitetails.” Hyrum’s tone was flat as if he was trying to hide something. He slipped past the redhead, holding his mug tightly.

“Wait,” Jacob said, setting a hand on Hyrum’s shoulder. “You  _ owned _ an apartment?”

For nearly all his life Jacob, just like his brothers, had been poor. And for a long time, he was even homeless, so it felt weird to know that the Whitetail had owned an apartment. Granted, Jacob had no idea how old he was, but he was sure he wasn’t even twenty-five.

“I did,” Hyrum said and turned around, Jacob’s hand heavy on his shoulder. It had been months since he’d been touched, and he felt extremely conflicted about the fact that it felt good being touched again. “Why?”

“It just seems so foreign to me. I’ve never owned anything expensive.”

“Didn’t the cult have like, a lot of houses?”

Jacob rolled his eyes. “It was all John’s money.”

“Oh.” Hyrum sipped his coffee, nearly burning his tongue and he winced. “Well, I’m gonna go and sit, so…” The former Herald finally pulled his hand back and turned around to focus on the coffee. Jacob stared at the pot, leaning against the counter, wondering how he could ease the friction between them. Joseph would know what to do and what to say. Jacob was never good with words, but he was good at barking orders and scaring people. Neither tactic was suitable for the situation at hand, though.

“It wasn’t all my money,” Hyrum said with a sigh as he sat down. Jacob cringed and poured himself a mug of coffee, before turning around. “My ex paid half of the apartment. I just… There’s nothing fancy about owning an apartment because you can’t take your worldly possessions with you when you die.”

“Mmh, Joseph was always saying the same thing,” Jacob said with a smile.

“And he was right. Money, apartments, houses… They don’t matter shit now, do they?” Hyrum said. He then huffed and continued, “I found one of his books.” He said the words quickly as if preventing himself from taking them back.

“What?”

“Yesterday, when I was doing inventory. I thought you’d want it. It’s in my room, on the table.”

“Yeah, I… Thanks. I’ll take it later.” Jacob hadn’t even realized that he missed Joseph’s book. He hadn’t been an avid reader of it before, but now it was the only concrete memory he had of his brother.

“I’ve read it, so I know about things.” Jacob’s eyebrows shot up and he opened his mouth to say something, but he was at a loss for words. For some reason that was beyond him, he felt ashamed of his past. He had a need to explain, that he’d tried to protect his brothers, but he didn’t know how to say it without sounding defensive. Instead, he took his coffee and went to sit next to Hyrum, who flinched.

“When did you read it?”

“A month ago. I managed to snatch a copy while I was patrolling.” He didn’t say that he’d had to pry the book from the hand of a dead cultist, and he also left out the fact that he had tossed the book as soon as he’d read it. It would’ve been too dangerous to keep it around since the Whitetails didn’t take kindly to Peggie sympathizers — not that he was one. He’d just been curious.

Jacob hadn’t noticed it earlier, but now that Hyrum had a loose t-shirt on, he could see that he had a tattoo on his chest. He couldn’t make out what it was, and it was out of the question to stare any longer, so he flicked his eyes away.

“That song you were humming when I came in… What was it?” Making small talk wasn’t Jacob’s strong suit, and he didn’t know that he came across like he was conducting an interrogation every time he asked something. It made Hyrum nervous.

“It’s called Seven Swans,” he replied, biting his tongue as he almost suggested that he’d take his guitar and play it. He wasn’t even sure if he remembered the chords since it had been a few years since he had played that particular song. He missed music, and he’d been too scared to even touch his guitar, afraid that it would annoy Jacob. “I used to play the piano and it was one of my favorites to play with it.”

Jacob hummed. “I never quite got the hang of piano, to be honest. It’s too complicated for my taste.”

“Oh? You play something else then?”

“Guitar. Much more straightforward.”

“Me too,” Hyrum said and turned to look at Jacob. He smiled, but quickly flicked his eyes away, intimidated by his intense stare. “If it’s okay, I’d like to switch your dressing.”

“Yeah, go ahead.” Hyrum stood and ducked into the storage room. He grabbed the small box from the floor and carried it to the kitchen. placing it on the table, careful not to knock down his mug. Jacob watched as he rummaged through it, and he leaned back in his chair as Hyrum handed him a small tube.

“It’s a topical antibiotic. For your arms,” he explained quietly as Jacob just stared at him. The former redhead cringed, but took the tube nonetheless, muttering a nearly silent thank you as the red tint of shame crept to his cheeks. “Is there any swelling? Pain?”

“I don’t think so,” Jacob replied, watching as Hyrum’s posture straightened, as he slipped into his work mode. Hyrum leaned against the table and raised his eyebrows, his eyes a warm hue of pine green.

“You have to take off your jeans.”

“I know.” It was getting more and more awkward every day. It was easier for Hyrum, though, since it was his job after all. He politely looked away, as Jacob stood and undid his pants to pull them down the bare minimum to reveal the dressing. He moved his chair back, as Hyrum circled around the table and squatted next to him while disinfecting his hands. It smelled like rubbing alcohol and it made Jacob’s eyes sting.

Hyrum hummed and grabbed a pair of gloves from the table. He pulled them on and tilted his head, as he started to remove the medical tape which was holding the dressing in place. As always, he was careful and gentle. Annoyingly so, in fact.

“Why’d you become a nurse?” Jacob asked, as Hyrum removed the dressing and dropped it on the floor. The gash, albeit jagged and long, wasn’t deep, so it had been pretty easy to suture. It ran from the front of Jacob’s thigh to the side, which made the healing process tricky though.

“Hand me the topical, would you?” Hyrum asked, ignoring Jacob’s question.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” the Whitetail assured and lifted his eyes. He gave Jacob a soft smile, before continuing, “It’s a bit infected, and as we’re stuck here I wanna make sure it’s not gonna get worse.” He turned his attention back to the wound, and as he started to carefully spread the thick ointment, Jacob flinched.

“Fuck,” he hissed and dug his nails into his palm.

“Does it hurt?”

“Well, what d’ya think?” Jacob snarled, his accent bleeding into his voice. Hyrum glanced at him, completely unfazed by his outburst. He’d heard much worse, and yelling wasn’t something that could intimidate him when he was working.

“You’ll have to take it easy. And keep this dry for the next twenty-four hours. I’m gonna give you some painkillers, not Targin, but I’ll check if we have ibuprofen or something like that.” Jacob felt like his thigh was on fire, and every time Hyrum touched the wound, it was like he stabbed him with a knife. Jacob pinched his brow, gnashing his teeth together, so he wouldn’t curse out loud.

“Are you done yet?” he muttered between his teeth.

“Almost,” Hyrum replied. “I’ll just put on a new dressing, and then it’s done.” He pulled off his gloves and grabbed a sterile dressing from the table. There wasn’t really a point in putting new gloves, it would be a waste as they weren’t sterile. Hyrum sighed as he ripped the package open and pulled out the soft gauze. Jacob handed him the roll of medical tape before he could even ask for it.

“How long till the sutures come off?”

“At least ten days. Probably longer, because it’s a pretty big gash. No longer than two weeks, I’d say. Take off your hoodie, and I’ll check the rest.” Jacob sighed and shucked off his hoodie, letting it fall to the floor. Hyrum stood with a groan, and he lifted the sleeve of Jacob’s t-shirt, to reveal a three-inch-long tear on his bicep. It had been a bit more difficult to suture, as it was a bullet wound. But it was better than having a bullet stuck inside his arm. “These have to stay in for a week at least. But otherwise, they’re fine.”

“That long?”

“Yeah. There’s a lot of tension, especially in your thigh,” Hyrum explained. There wasn’t a point in going over every smaller cut Jacob had, and he was sure it would only annoy the redhead. “The stitches need to stay in long enough, so I can remove them safely.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Why did I become a nurse, huh?” Hyrum said and stepped back. “I had a calling, I guess. My mom was a practical nurse, and my dad was a doctor, just like my brother and my sisters.”

Jacob cringed at the thought that someone had enough money to have a bunch of kids  _ and _ enough to put them through med school. Talk about unevenly distributed wealth. “So, why aren’t you a doctor then?”

“Because I love taking care of people,” Hyrum replied with a sigh, and his tone was defensive like he’d answered the question far too many times. He started picking up the trash and throwing them in the garbage bin near the fridge. “And doctors don’t actually spend that much time with patients. But that’s enough of me. You, on the other hand… You’ll take it easy for the rest of the day. Give your body time to heal. Infection isn’t something to be taken lightly.”

“I can do my share, easy.”

“No,” Hyrum snapped, as he took the box from the table. He set it on the floor and turned to look at Jacob. “I don’t give a shit whether you do as I say or not, but—”

“Then why do you help? If you don’t give a shit, that is,” Jacob said, his tone full of venom. He wasn’t used to being ordered around, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to listen to it anymore.

“It’s my job,” Hyrum replied stiffly. Suddenly he was angry, and Jacob could see it, as his eyes darkened, and his jaw clenched. “I can’t ignore the suffering of people around me, no matter who they are. It’s a good thing.”

“No. It’s weak, that’s what it is,” Jacob stated and stood. The Whitetail took a step back, and his hands began to shake. Not out of anger, but out of fear.

“You know what… Do as you please,” Hyrum said and left, muttering something to himself. Jacob listened to his receding footsteps, not regretting his words, per se, but he just wanted to take them back. He yanked his jeans back on and cringed.

“Joseph… I could really use some help,” he said quietly and sat. He felt responsible for the Whitetail, mostly because he wanted to honor Joseph’s plan, which had been to unite all survivors after the Collapse. Like Joseph had said; Peggie, Whitetail, civilian, it didn’t matter, because the Collapse had cleansed everyone — even the sinners who’d been responsible for killing members of Joseph’s flock.

Although the Seeds were once again separated, it was just a minor hiccup, and they would be reunited. Jacob prayed that John was still alive, that he’d managed to survive too. The chances were slim, though, but he could always hope.

_ Promise you’ll love them _ , Joseph had said.  _ We will all be weak after the Collapse. Those who survive, are already strong. Protect them and make them even stronger. It is God’s plan for you. _

Jacob sighed and rubbed his eyes. Whether he admitted it or not, Hyrum was the only family he had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me tell what you thought, and if you can, drop a Kudos and/or a comment.  
They make my day.  
You're the best, xoxo


	3. Of course it’s bad, you idiot!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya again lovelies!  
I managed to keep the deadline I set for myself, so let's celebrate that with a cup of coffee or something.  
Without further ado, enjoy!!

For Hyrum, it had been easy to slip into a routine. He would wake up in the morning to the smell of coffee, and Jacob would be in the kitchen, reading. Usually, after Hyrum had fixed breakfast for both of them, Jacob took a compound bow from the armory and continued his lessons. And Hyrum had to admit — Jacob was an extremely good teacher. A bit too demanding, maybe, but he explained everything clearly and kept correcting Hyrum if he made mistakes. Always with a stern, yet soft voice. Jacob was also more than eager to fix his stance, sliding his hands along his arms, lifting or lowering them as he deemed necessary.

It had been two weeks since the Collapse, and everything had been civil between them, and it was more than weird. Hyrum had gathered the courage and would often play something with his guitar in the evenings. He would never sing, though, just play, softly picking at the strings, feeling the guitar vibrating against his chest. Jacob seemed to like it, though, and sometimes he even had a request or two.

They didn’t speak much. Only the necessities, and sometimes Hyrum had said ‘good night’, and Jacob had replied. It was difficult for both of them to navigate in their new life. One slip and their lukewarm relationship would go up in flames. Hyrum was still nervous around Jacob; he wasn’t exactly afraid, but he was concerned.

It was easier said than done to focus on the present, and not the past. But somehow they managed to avoid mentioning the past. Despite Jacob’s opinion, Hyrum had still taken care of him. Weak or not, it was his job.

Of course, both of them were on the edge, but Hyrum just ignored the abyss, turning his back on it and pretending that it didn’t exist — that he wouldn’t fall, not even when Jacob snapped at him about something. Jacob would uncoil instantly and change the subject, and Hyrum would hold his breath, his hands trembling.

It was only natural that when Hyrum woke up and scuffed to the kitchen, untangling his frizzled morning hair with his fingers, he was confused that the kitchen was dark and empty. A quick peek into Jacob’s bedroom told him that he was still sleeping. Odd, but then again, if anyone deserved a good night’s sleep, it was Jacob.

Hyrum brushed it off and made coffee, enjoying the fact that he could just kick back. His arms felt weak and his muscles sore. He winced as he rubbed small circles against his shoulders. He wasn’t used to drawing a bow over and over again until his fingers bled. The target was still in its place, just under the storage room’s doorway and Hyrum glared at it. It had three arrows sticking from it, and several laying on the floor behind it. He wasn’t as good as he wanted to be, but he found comfort in the fact that Jacob was praising him.

After finishing the whole pot, Hyrum glanced at his wristwatch. It was already noon. Worried, he stuck the book he’d been reading under the couch and headed for Jacob’s bedroom. He stopped at the doorway, his hand hovering over the light switch.

“Jacob?” he said softly and flicked on the lights. Jacob was curled under the covers, and he was fast asleep. It was weird. Hyrum walked to his bed and sat down. He laid a hand on Jacob’s shoulder, and even through the blanket, he could feel that he was extremely warm. “Come on. It’s time to get up.”

Jacob let out a small groan but didn’t open his eyes. Hyrum shook him by his shoulder, and nearly fell off the bed as Jacob swung his arm, barely missing Hyrum’s face.

“Go away,” he hissed and opened his eyes.

“Are you all right?” Hyrum asked, petting his shoulder. He was pale, his skin was damp, and his eyes hazy. Instinctively Hyrum pressed his hand against his forehead, making him flinch. It was hot and wet. “You’re running a fever.”

“What of it?”

Hyrum sighed. “It means that you’re  _ sick _ , Jacob. Even you can get sick.”

“I’m fine,” Jacob muttered. His voice was hoarse, and he winced as he sat up and the covers slid off him. The air felt cold against his skin and a shiver ran through his body. He kneed Hyrum as he crossed his legs, but he didn’t feel the need to apologize. “I’m just a little under the weather.” It had been years since he’d been sick, and it wasn’t like he’d had time for trivialities like that. His duties were far more important than some flu.

“I’ll go grab a thermometer,” Hyrum said and stood, instantly slipping into his work mode.

“I have one here.”

“Oh, well, have you taken your temperature?” the Whitetail asked and glanced around, and to his surprise, there was an old mercury thermometer on top of the dresser. He nabbed it and sat back down, turning it around and grimacing at the old technology. Well, at least it didn’t need a battery.

“I have,” Jacob replied wearily.

“When?”

“Few hours ago, at six or so.”

“Jacob… It’s noon.”

Jacob didn’t reply, he just stared at Hyrum and frowned, like he was suspicious of the man’s words. Reluctantly he took the thermometer and placed it under his arm, flinching as the cool metal tip touched his skin. Hyrum stared at his scarred chest, and his gaze fixated on the carved letters under his ribcage. They formed the word pride.

“What was your temperature earlier?” he asked and forced his eyes to meet Jacob’s.

“A hundred.”

“Well, that’s not so bad. How’re you feeling otherwise?” Hyrum asked, reaching his hands towards the former Herald. He settled them gently on his neck, just under his jaw and carefully pressed against the soft flesh. “Does your throat hurt?” he continued as he felt the swollen lymph nodes against his fingertips.

“Yeah. But I’m fine,” Jacob croaked, and he let out a dry cough which made him wince.

Hyrum knew he wasn’t fine, and his mind was already going through their medical supplies, while simultaneously thinking of possible reasons for the fever. His wounds were fine, the topical had calmed the infection down in a matter of days. It had helped with Jacob’s arms also; they were looking much better, Hyrum realized. He smiled briefly.

Jacob grimaced as the Whitetail slid his hands down to his bare shoulders. “You’ll have to keep it there for a while,” he said while petting the crook of Jacob’s shoulder nervously, his other hand threading amidst Jacob’s beard, pressing against his cheek. “You’re hot.”

“Well, thank you,” the former Herald replied snarkily and gave a weak smile.

“Tsk. I meant your skin. You’re burning up.” Jacob stared into Hyrum’s eyes, and they reminded him of the thick forests growing along the mountain slopes in Whitetail Mountains. The light from the ceiling made his eyes gleam.

Hyrum wore his worry openly, and it made Jacob feel awkward. There wasn’t a reason for worry — it was just a fever. But Hyrum was a nurse, and right now he was acting like one. And Jacob had to admit that his hand against his cheek felt comforting, especially when he caressed his beard with his thumb. Not that he needed comforting. It just felt nice.

“Okay, let’s see,” Hyrum said and pulled his hands away. He tugged the thermometer from Jacob and flipped it around. “Fuck.”

“What does it say?” Jacob asked. His head felt like it was splitting at its seams.

“Hundred and three.”

“And that’s…” Jacob examined Hyrum’s expression. “Bad?” he added, sounding extremely unsure.

“Yes, of course it’s bad, you idiot!” Hyrum exclaimed. He pinched his brow and took a deep breath. “Okay. You need some water and ibuprofen. And you need to eat something. Do you want to come to the kitchen, while I cook?” His tone grew warm, and he took Jacob’s hand, brushing his knuckles with his fingers.

“I could use the company,” Jacob confessed, hanging his head. There was a loud hum inside his head, and he didn’t know if it was the ventilation of the bunker or his heartbeat. But whatever it was, it was distracting.

“Well, then,” the Whitetail said and stood.

“I’m freezing.” Jacob’s voice was weak.

“Oh, honey, I know,” Hyrum chimed and immediately bit his tongue. He was way too used to calling his patients honey, or darling, or whatever, so it had slipped involuntarily. But it seemed like Jacob didn’t mind — on the contrary, he looked up to him and smiled, his cheeks flushed. And Hyrum told himself that it was because of the fever. “Let go of my hand and I’ll grab you a shirt.”

“And… Could you get me some pants?” Jacob asked, blinking in embarrassment.

“Of course,” Hyrum said, and pulled his hand away. He turned to face the drawer and started digging through it. He pulled out a pair of navy blue sweatpants and a pullover hoodie and set them on Jacob’s lap. “I’m gonna grab the ibuprofen, and then I’ll start cooking.”

“Thanks,” Jacob muttered, and the situation was clearly difficult for him. But it was extremely easy for the Whitetail. He saw Jacob as his patient, and nothing else mattered at that moment.

“Don’t have to thank me,” Hyrum said as he left. He threw one final glance at Jacob and gave him a smile.

He was more than thankful that he’d organized the storage room. He knew where everything was, so it was easy to find the correct pill bottle. It was comforting, to say the least. As he doubled back to the kitchen, Jacob was laying on the couch, his head pressed against the armrest. He’d dragged his pillow and blanket with him, and he was hugging the pillow tightly.

“I’ll get you water, take two of these,” Hyrum said and gave the pill bottle to Jacob. “What would you like? Is soup okay?” he asked as he rested his hand on his head, brushing the sides of his head with his fingers. He hadn’t noticed before, but Jacob’s hair was growing, and he looked much softer when the sides of his head weren’t so harshly shaven.

“What kinda soup?” he asked, muttering into his pillow.

“Chicken rice soup. I could make it a bit spicy. How’s that sound?”

“I’ve never had rice soup,” Jacob said, and he crinkled his nose like he was repulsed by the idea.

“It’s good, I promise you. We have some canned chicken, and it’s better than spam when you’re sick.” Hyrum had been saving the chicken, just in case, and he was glad that he had. He’d also been using spices very sparingly, not that they even could do much. Spam was still spam.

“Yeah, fine,” Jacob muttered. Hyrum smiled and knelt, sliding his hand along Jacob’s jawline. He pressed his forehead briefly against his, enticing a small gasp from him.

“I’ll go prepare it.” Hyrum stood and left Jacob alone with his thoughts. Jacob didn’t think he deserved to be taken care of, but he was way too exhausted to start arguing about it, so he just went with it. He had no fucks to give at that moment. “Remember to drink all of this,” Hyrum said and laid a bottle of water on the floor, before heading back to the stove while humming quietly.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Yeah?”

Jacob hesitated. “Can you sing something?”

Hyrum froze. It had been a long time since he’d sang in front of someone, but he couldn’t say no. “Yeah. Of course. Anything you need.”

“You pick the song,” Jacob said and started to cough. It was a violent, hacking cough he’d been holding back for a while, so he wouldn’t worry the Whitetail. But now it came out, and he could barely breathe.

Hyrum gazed in his direction, biting his lip. It was probably just the flu, or something like it, but it was still concerning. It’s not like they had the option to go to a hospital if something were to happen. He sighed and opened a pack of rice, trying to pick a song. Eventually. he settled with Rufus Wainwright’s cover of Hallelujah, as it was a song he knew extremely well.

_ “I've heard there was a secret chord, that David played and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music, do you?” _ Jacob’s eyes widened, as he heard Hyrum’s soft tenor filling the room. His voice wasn’t quiet, but it was delicate, and it flowed effortlessly. For some reason, it reminded Jacob of the Henbane, and the thought made him cringe. It was clichéd to compare his voice to a river.

As Hyrum finished the song with eight, broken hallelujahs, he glanced in Jacob’s direction, only to find him staring. Hyrum cleared his throat and turned his attention to the water which was starting to boil. He poured the rice into the pot, feeling Jacob’s intense stare on his back.

“You have a good voice.”

“Really?” Hyrum asked and turned around. He seemed genuinely baffled.

Jacob nodded and smiled. “Sing something else.”

“Okay,” Hyrum replied and breathed out as he started to pry open a can of vegetables. “How about Amazing Grace, or is it too—”

“Yes. Sing that one.”

Jacob couldn’t see it, but Hyrum’s smile widened, and his eyes lit up, as he started to sing. Even though the song reminded Jacob of his brother, it brought him some sort of solace. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy it. He would never admit it out loud that Hyrum’s rendition of the song was one of the most hauntingly beautiful pieces he’d ever heard.

Hyrum’s voice was strained when he finally finished cooking. He’d sang nearly the whole time, only occasionally resting his voice. Jacob seemed happy, so it was worth it, and he was smiling as he dragged himself to the table to eat — something he had been adamant in doing from day two. Hyrum pulled up a chair and set it opposite of Jacob.

“I probably sound better with a guitar. So I can play a song or two later, but now I gotta rest my voice,” he said as he laid down a bowl of piping hot soup. The soup was thick, nearly broth-like and bright yellow, and the smell was mouthwatering.

Hyrum’s muscles were still aching, but the pain had subsided into a subtle throbbing, and he was secretly glad that he didn’t even have to lift a bow, let alone shoot with it that day. He stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders, forcing a smile.

Jacob squinted. “It smells good.” He reached for the spoon, but Hyrum laid his hand over it.

“Nope. I’m feeding you.”

“You… What?” The expression on the former Herald’s face was something Hyrum would never forget — his lips were parted, and he was blinking slowly as if he wasn’t quite grasping what Hyrum had said.

“Oh, stop it. You heard me,” Hyrum said and laughed. “Just let me do this. It’s more to soothe my nerves than anything else.”

Jacob nodded, and his head felt like it was going to explode because of it, making him wince. He felt awkward, but as Hyrum was so lively and relaxed, it started to rub off on him. “Where did you work?” Jacob asked, trying to distract himself from the pain hammering inside his skull.

Hyrum froze momentarily. “Before… All this?”

“Yeah.”

Hyrum propped his elbows against the table. “In a hospital in Salt Lake City. Emergency room and pediatric wing mostly.” He took the spoon and twirled it in his hands. “Then I left to work with the MSF, but I returned to my old job after about a year.” He was focused on the spoon, tapping it with his fingers, like he was fighting off bad memories.

“Okay, this might be a stupid question, but what the hell is MSF?”

Hyrum chuckled. “First of all, there is no such thing as a stupid question. It stands for Médecins Sans Frontières. Doctors without borders in plain English. I worked in sub-Saharan Africa.”

“Oh. That’s cool. Didn’t know they had nurses also. What about the volunteer work?”

Hyrum raised his eyebrows, surprised that Jacob remembered it. “Oh. Um, it was in South Africa. Cape Town, Zululand… I was there with my dad before I even applied for a job with the MSF. It was hard, sometimes dangerous, but I liked it. And yeah, where doctors go, nurses follow.” Hyrum sighed and rolled up the sleeves of his sweater. It was the same color as his eyes, and Jacob got fixated on them again. The soft look in them reminded Jacob of Staci, of all people. He bit his lip and flicked his gaze away, shaking the memory out of his head.

“Dangerous?” he managed to ask, keeping his voice level.

“Yeah. Cape Town is amazing, don’t get me wrong, but it’s dangerous. And as we worked with HIV and AIDS awareness,” Hyrum said, and his voice faltered a bit, before returning to its normal cadence. “it meant that we met a lot of drug users, and the like.” He laid down the spoon, and his brow furrowed as he thought of something. But then he stood and lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal a small, gnarly scar few inches from his navel. “I got stabbed,” he explained with a weird smile on his face.

Jacob flicked his gaze from the scar to his face. “Why are you smiling?” It was clear that Jacob had misjudged the man, not something he was comfortable admitting. And he was glad there was no one to admit it to.

“Because it’s stupid.  _ I _ was stupid.” Hyrum sat back down, looking embarrassed. “I was examining this guy, and even though I knew he had PTSD, for some reason I just didn’t think it through and… Well, I got stabbed.” He grabbed the spoon again, but this time he took a spoonful of soup and grinned at Jacob.

“Is it hot?”

“Yes, still is. But you gotta eat it hot,” Hyrum replied and brought the spoon closer. Jacob reluctantly opened his mouth, but his face lit up as he tasted the soup. It was really spicy. He didn’t say anything, just stared at the spoon, shamefully rendered speechless. “Is it good?”

“Yeah.”

“I told ya. If I’m being honest, I’m a good cook. This isn’t my specialty, but I know the recipe by heart.”

“Is there anything you can’t do?” Jacob asked, leaning forward for another mouthful.

Hyrum visibly tensed. “Of course there is. Cooking is a basic life skill, my parents taught me music before I could even read, and nursing is my job. That’s literally all I can do. So it’s not that impressive.”

Jacob disagreed, but he didn’t say anything. He was just glad to have something warm to eat. It didn’t take him long to finish the whole bowl, and he wanted more, but as he was full, there was really no point in eating more. It escaped his attention, that Hyrum himself didn’t eat anything.

“Hyrum…” Jacob started quietly and leaned back in the chair. The Whitetail turned to look at him, his hands wrapped around the bowl as he was just about to lift it from the table. “Thank you,” he continued, muttering the words between his teeth. Hyrum’s lips curled into a brief smile and he nodded, noticing Jacob’s awkwardness. It was understandable but extremely precious. A sick Jacob was a normal Jacob. And also talkative, which Hyrum found amusing.

Jacob stared at his hands on his lap, tired and content. His head was still hurting, but it was only a soft thudding under his skull, not nearly painful enough to be distracting. He could hear water running into the sink and quiet clanking as Hyrum started doing dishes, again humming something to himself.

Suddenly Jacob was more than aware of how empty his life had become. The change from Herald to just Jacob had been too quick, and he was having a hard time adjusting to his new life. For years he’d trained people, guarded and defended Joseph’s flock like a pastoral dog, and purged sinners. Now he was Jacob Seed. Not the Herald, not the soldier, but just Jacob. And Jacob didn’t know how Jacob Seed reacted to things. It was weird.

And having someone taking care of him was even weirder — Jacob had always been the one taking care of others. His brothers, soldiers on the battlefield, sometimes people in the homeless shelters he stayed at. But it was always him.

And Jacob didn’t even know who Jacob was. A brother. It was all he knew, and it was confusing.

Jacob sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Hyrum said and glanced over his shoulder. There was a long curl which had escaped his braid and he wiped it from his eyes. “What is it?”

“Who’d you lose?” It had been bothering Jacob for a while, and he blamed his fever for his curiosity.

Hyrum turned slowly around, grabbing a towel from the counter. He dried his hands, glowering at his feet. “Why do you think I’ve lost someone?”

“Because of your voice,” Jacob said and turned his head to look at the man. “When you talked about HIV, your voice, it… Sounded broken.”

Hyrum threw the towel back on the counter and breathed out, crossing his arms. “You have a keen ear,” he said and cringed.

Jacob shrugged. “It’s something you learn when you’re beaten up as a kid.” His voice was flat, his expression unreadable.

“Yeah. I lost someone,” Hyrum said slowly and walked back to the table. He drummed the wooden surface with his fingers for a moment, before sitting down. He unlaced his boots and threw them aside, so he could cross his legs. Jacob waited patiently, staring at him openly. “Ah, it was… Four years ago. I’d just turned twenty-four.” His eyes were suddenly damp, and his breathing hitched. To have something to do with his hands, he pulled off his hairband and began twisting it.

“You don’t have to—”

“No. It’s okay. I haven’t… Spoken about it, since it happened. And… It was to a shrink, so that doesn’t count, I guess. He, um… My friend got HIV when he was young, from a needle, from unprotected sex, no one knows.” Hyrum’s voice was quiet and powerless, as he was overcome by grief and the memories started flooding in. He drew a shuddering breath. “He was a prideful son of a bitch, that one.” He chuckled softly. “And… His antiretroviral drugs ran out. They, um, prevent the virus from multiplying. So you can live a normal life if you keep taking them.”

“I’ve heard of them. Don’t they, like, help so a person can’t pass the virus on or something?” Jacob asked.

“Yeah. If the viral count is low enough, you can’t pass it on. But, yeah, they ran out. He told me about it when… When it was already too late. He was dying and there was nothing to be done. He refused treatment, and I get it, I really do. But even before that, um, the drugs were expensive, and he… Chose to spend his money on other, not so legal, drugs. So, there’s that too.”

Jacob hesitated and his hand twitched, but he couldn’t bring himself to reach it across the table to take Hyrum’s hands, which were clasped on top of the table. There was nothing he could say. Saying that he was sorry was futile — it wasn’t going to help. He didn’t even know if he was sorry. He didn’t know what he felt.

Hyrum drew a quick breath and wiped his eyes, before forcing a saccharine smile on his face. “But hey, enough moping. How’re you feeling? Any better?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Let’s check your temperature. Go sit on the couch, it’s more comfortable.” Hyrum stood up and hurried away, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were sheet white. Jacob frowned and stood, leaning against the table as the room suddenly started making loops. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath until it felt like the ground was solid again. He couldn’t let Hyrum see it; he’d just get worried.

It took him a while to get to the couch, as the room felt like it was tilting with every step he took. Unbeknownst to Jacob, Hyrum was staring at him the whole time, not daring to intervene. He waited until Jacob plopped down on the couch, before doing anything.

“So… You have to rest, drink and eat. That’s all you gotta do at least for a few days. Easy, right?” Hyrum said as he sat down next to Jacob.

“Sounds boring,” Jacob complained.

“Believe me, I know, honey,” Hyrum said softly, laying a hand on Jacob’s knee and handing the thermometer to him. “I hate being sick.”

“I have a question,” Jacob said as he tucked the thermometer under his arm. “How’d you end up in such a company?”

Hyrum’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Your friend. He was a drug user.” His tone was weirdly strained, and Hyrum felt suddenly nervous.

“It’s a long story.” He wanted to avoid the subject as long as possible.

“We have time.”

“Well… I, er, well…” Hyrum stammered, but he couldn’t think of an argument. He sighed and lifted his legs on the couch, wrapping his arms around them. He pressed his chin against his knee. “He was my dealer. I met him when I was fifteen, and… Yeah. That’s about it.”

Jacob looked downright disgusted as he crinkled his nose. “You were a junkie?”

“Well that’s a pretty way to say it,” Hyrum said sarcastically. “But yes. You’d think you wouldn’t be so quick to judge me, considering your brother was an addict also.”

“Whoa, hey, I never said I didn’t judge him,” Jacob said defensively.

Hyrum turned his head and stared at Jacob, his lips parted in surprise. “You… What?”

“I cannot condone drug use. It’s the one thing I could never accept. It’s pathetic.”

The words made Hyrum nauseous. “Are you fucking kidding me? You  _ tortured _ people, you  _ killed  _ people, and you’re—” Hyrum bit down to his tongue too harshly, he realized, as his mouth was filled with the metallic taste of blood.

Bringing up anything that had something to do with the Eden’s Gate was a stupid decision, mostly because neither of them could escape the argument that would follow if they continued down the path. Past was a bridge to nowhere, so there really was no point in crossing it.

“It’s weak,” Jacob said, his tone flat.

“God, I hate that word,” Hyrum said. “You have no idea what it’s like to be an addict. Drugs fuck up the wiring in your brain. It’s not rational, it’s not logical, but you don’t realize the pain and suffering you cause to yourself, and you keep spiraling down. Hit after hit, you always want more, you always—” A sob tore through Hyrum, startling Jacob. His shoulders trembled, and Jacob felt pity for the first time in a long time. He chucked the thermometer on the couch and draped his arm over Hyrum’s shoulders.

“Look,” Jacob started, as he pulled the man against his feverish body. “Let’s just… Ignore it. There’s no use to talk about it right now. I… What I mean is…” He sighed heavily. “What’s done is done. Let’s ignore the past for now. As long as it doesn’t affect our current situation, there’s no use mulling over it. Agreed?”

“Yeah,” Hyrum answered, sniffling. He snaked away from Jacob, even though it felt good being close to someone. But Jacob had taken off the thermometer and he couldn’t accept that. “Thermometer. Put it back, or I’m sticking it somewhere you don’t want it.”

Jacob laughed, but his laughter died as he met Hyrum’s eyes. He was dead serious. Jacob quickly nabbed the thermometer from the couch, his brow furrowed. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

“I’m a nurse. Where do you think we stick those things day in, day out?” He was joking, mostly, but Jacob didn’t need to know that. Hyrum took one of the hairbands he had around his wrist and started to braid his hair again, this time starting from the top of his head to make a French braid. Jacob tilted his head and watched in awe Hyrum’s nimble fingers twisting and turning the curly strands of hair. He winced a few times, as his fingers got caught on a tangle. “Have you been reading Joseph’s book?” he suddenly asked and dropped his hands when he was finished.

“I have.”

“I just… Fuck.” Hyrum groaned. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to talk about. We’ve been civil, and… What am I supposed to say, or do?”

Jacob coughed again, this time pressing his hand against his mouth as he suddenly felt like throwing up. He heaved a few times and cleared his throat, before saying, “I dunno.”

Hyrum pressed into the backrest and sighed. “Yeah.”

The past hung between them, and both of them were reluctant in addressing it. They would have to, at some point, but the time and place wasn’t there, not two weeks after the Collapse, not when they were still trapped in Wolf’s Den.

“You could read.”

“I have been reading.”

Jacob shook his head. “No, I mean out loud. We could take turns and… I dunno, talk about books, I guess.”

“I take it that you like reading?” Hyrum asked, his voice nearly cheerful. It was impressive how quickly his moods changed.

“I do. I love books,” Jacob replied with a smile.

“Yeah, a person who doesn’t like reading can’t write…” Hyrum’s voice trailed off.

“Write what?”

“Those sermons you wrote,” he continued.

“Yeah,” Jacob said stiffly, his heart thudding in his ears. He didn’t need to be reminded of his past as a Herald. It was still painful to think how much his life had changed, and how fucked he was because of the Deputy. And how much he missed his brothers.

“So… A book club,” Hyrum said and smiled. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, but Jacob ignored it. He’d take anything at this point.

“Yeah. What’s the first book?”

Hyrum smirked as he jumped up. “Wait here.” He darted out of the kitchen, smiling the whole way to his bedroom and back. As he got close enough to Jacob, he threw a book on the couch. Jacob picked it up and turned it in his hands. His eyebrows shot up.

“The Picture of Dorian Gray?”

“It’s a good book.”

“I’ve never read it.”

Hyrum threw his arm over his eyes and whined. “I am absolutely aghast!” he said, pretending to be shocked. Jacob burst out laughing and shook his head. Hyrum felt so  _ alive _ . He was breathing and his heart was beating, just like Jacob’s, but there was a certain intensity to his being. It was alluring, but at the same time, it was  _ too much. _ He was too intense, but Jacob couldn’t get enough of it. And it was refreshing. Hyrum wasn’t stiff, he wasn’t a soldier, he was merely a man, not a walking, talking weapon.

“Temperature, please,” he said as he sat on the other end of the couch and pushed his feet against Jacob’s thigh.

“Hundred and one,” Jacob replied, holding out the thermometer for Hyrum, who squinted and nodded.

“It’s better. I’m glad.”

Jacob flicked his eyes away, abashed, and cleared his throat. “So…”

“I’ll start reading, you rest your throat. If you want tea or something, just say.” It wasn’t the first time Hyrum had read to a patient, and even though Jacob looked uncomfortable, he knew it would soon pass.

“Sure.”

Hyrum grabbed the book and flipped it open.  _ “The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn…” _

Jacob patted his thigh, and Hyrum lifted his eyes. It took him a while to realize what Jacob wanted. He blinked, confused, and straightened his legs, resting his feet on Jacob’s lap. They shared a long look before Hyrum turned his attention back to the book, and Jacob laid his hand on his shin, softly caressing it through the rough denim.

It wasn’t exactly reconciliation, but the past had been put aside for a moment, just so they both could breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! xoxo  
I love me some soft Seed boi, and it was a blast writing this.  
But I can assure you that they can't keep avoiding things forever.


	4. Like I give a shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I managed to keep my self-appointed deadline once again!  
Well, enjoy and all that.
> 
> Btw I rewrote this like seven times during this week so lord have mercy. If you find any mistakes or fuck ups pls do let me know and I'll fix them asap.

A week passed by without any altercations or arguments. Both Hyrum and Jacob had been extremely careful, avoiding all topics that could somehow be related to Eden’s Gate, or the Whitetails. Jacob's fever had broken in a matter of days, and the only thing left was a dry, hacking cough which kept Hyrum awake at nights. No amount of tea mixed with a chunk of honey seemed to help. Jacob was extremely embarrassed, even though Hyrum kept telling him that it didn’t bother him — he was used to staying awake for long periods at a time. Jacob himself slept like a log, and Hyrum was secretly glad that he did. He needed the rest.

He also made sure that Jacob rested his voice as much as possible, so he’d prohibited him from reading. Instead, Hyrum had taken upon himself to read out loud every day. They’d finished reading  _ the Picture of Dorian Gray, _ and moved on to  _ the Hours. _ It had sparked a two-hour conversation about the Second World War — which both of them found interesting. They avoided speaking about it in detail, mostly because it made Hyrum nervous and Jacob didn’t wish to push him.

And when Hyrum read, he was often leaning against Jacob’s side, or lying on his back on the couch, his legs on Jacob’s lap — and the former Herald would constantly pet him, and his touches would always be soft and light, almost reassuring. They didn’t talk about it, though. It was just something that happened.

The nagging uncertainty which had accompanied Hyrum all hours of the day had started to cease, and at times it completely slipped his mind. Even though there wasn't a lot to do, he found solace in reading and playing his guitar. Jacob was fond of his voice, and he would often request  _ Amazing Grace, _ or Elliot Smith’s  _ Miss Misery, _ which was also one of Hyrum’s favorites.

Trying to work out the kinks in their new living arrangement had been difficult, especially when the kinks consisted mostly of their past actions, which were forbidden topics inside Wolf’s Den. So they had to navigate gracefully around them, hoping that nothing would blow up in their faces.

They were just finishing dinner — spam and rice — when Hyrum suddenly said, “Jacob, drop your pants after you're done."

“What? Why?” Jacob asked, his voice still a bit gruff. He laid his fork on the empty plate in front of him and cringed.

“I’m taking out your stitches, that’s why. It’s already been three weeks. They can’t stay in any longer,” Hyrum said as he started to clear the table. “I'm a bit worried, but if you're careful, I don't think there's gonna be any problems,” he continued. He could hear Jacob’s exasperated sigh as he walked to the corner and set their plates in the sink.

Hyrum bit back a groan as he realized he’d have to do the dishes soon. It was the only chore they both hated — and more often than not it was Hyrum who was responsible for it. He threw an annoyed glance at the mountain of dishes, and another one at Jacob. Hyrum loved cooking — cleaning up after, not so much.

Jacob huffed and pinched his brow. “Fine. Where do you want me?” He didn’t even try and hide his reluctance.

“Couch is fine. Remember how nasty it felt when I removed the sutures from your arm?” Hyrum asked and turned around. “Well, this is gonna feel even worse.”

“Great,” Jacob muttered and stood. Hyrum crossed the kitchen to get into the storage room, and grabbed the familiar supplies from the shelf closest to the door; small scissors, tweezers and a pair of gloves, all packed neatly into a small ziplock bag.

When he returned, Jacob was already sitting on the couch, squirming anxiously. He never took his pants completely off, and Hyrum found it amusing. He wasn’t going to say it out loud, though. It was enough that he had access to the wound, and if Jacob felt it was better that way, he wasn’t going to argue.

Hyrum plopped down next to him, staring at the wound and gnawing his lip. “It looks pretty good,” he said as he snapped on the gloves, before shuffling into a better position and crossing his legs.

“Do you miss television?” Jacob asked as he stared at the black TV screen.

“Actually, no,” Hyrum replied. He pulled out the scissors and tweezers from the bag. “We didn’t have a TV at home. And I never bought one when I moved out. So, I’ve never really watched TV, except for the news when I was at work if there was nothing else to do.” Jacob tensed, as Hyrum placed his hand against his thigh, and started to cut up the sutures. He pulled out a small piece of thread and dropped it into the bag, which he’d placed on his lap.

“Why didn’t you have one?” Jacob turned to look at Hyrum, noticing how the t-shirt hung over his body. It was slightly too big, but it wasn’t just that — to Jacob, it seemed like he had lost weight. The shadows under his clavicles seemed deeper than before. But Jacob just brushed it off, as he didn’t know the Whitetail well enough to say anything about it. And it was possible that he was just imagining things.

“My parents were Mormons,” Hyrum said quietly. “They belonged to the FLDS church up until I was two.” He paused, tugging at one, determined piece of thread. Jacob hissed as he finally yanked it off. “So… They were pretty conservative. We had a computer, though. For studying, and work, of course.”

“Wait,” Jacob said. Hyrum flicked his eyes up. “So, your parents were… Polygamists?”

Hyrum turned his attention back to the sutures, his shoulders hunched in an awkward position. “Yeah. I had two moms, three siblings, and one dad.” He flashed a grin. “Does that weird you out?”

“No. It’s just that it’s—”

“Foreign?” Hyrum interrupted.

“Well, yeah. That,” Jacob said and covered his mouth as he started to cough violently. Hyrum leaned back, waiting for him to stop coughing. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Yeah, what I was going to say was, that I personally don't give a shit how many partners a person has…” Jacob’s muscles twitched as Hyrum pulled at a thread, which was stuck to his skin. “Stop moving.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Jacob muttered.

Hyrum groaned. “Anyways. Like, I don’t care. I’m poly myself, so… Not a polygamist, God no, I would never marry anyone.”

“Oh, I see.”

Hyrum chuckled as he tugged at another persistent thread. “You do know what I mean when I say poly, right?”

Jacob cringed. “I’m not sure.”

“Polyamorous. It’s… Well, it means that I can have more than one committed romantic relationship at the same time. And for me, it has nothing to do with my upbringing or faith. I’m not a jealous guy at all if I’m being honest. My ex on the other hand…” His voice trailed off as he had to concentrate again. Jacob let out a strained, “Fuck!” as Hyrum pulled out a long piece. It didn’t hurt, but the feeling was downright horrible. Jacob dug his nails into the armrest as if it would somehow help, and shivers ran down his spine.

“It sounds complex,” he muttered between his teeth, his eyes still fixed on Hyrum. “So, your ex. You’ve mentioned her a couple of times.”

Hyrum had been purposefully vague before, but now he knew he had to come clean to Jacob, so he said, “Him.” His voice shook just the tiniest bit.

“What?”

“My ex was a guy, Jacob,” Hyrum said, trying to sound normal, but failing miserably. Jacob let out an odd huff and Hyrum snapped his head up, even though he was in the middle of pulling out a thread. “Is there a problem?” he asked and tugged the piece off.

Jacob winced. “No, I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Sure,” Hyrum said, rolling his eyes. He slid his gloved finger along the jagged wound, which was holding together well, trying to find any last sutures that he could’ve missed. But the wound was smooth and it had started to scar nicely.

“It’s  _ not _ a problem,” the former Herald said stiffly.

“It really isn’t?” Hyrum asked, surprise leaking into his voice, even though he tried to hide it.

Jacob sighed. “Like I give a shit. So, he was jealous, then?” Again, the unwritten rule which prohibited all talk about Eden’s Gate, made it impossible for Jacob to defend himself, and his family. He knew that most people who were unfamiliar with their practices saw them as Bible-waving fundamentalists. He believed that Hyrum thought so too, and it was irritating that he couldn't do anything about it.

“He was, yeah,” Hyrum said and pulled the gloves off. He cringed at his sweaty palms and wiped them against his jeans. “Okay, this seems to be done. Take it easy, though. Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, if you poke it.”

Hyrum was quiet for a while. “Then don’t poke it.” Amusement bled into his voice and he grinned.

Jacob snorted. “I won’t.”

Hyrum straightened his back with a whimper, and his brow furrowed as he stared at Jacob. He grabbed Jacob by his hand, startling him as lifted his arm. “Huh. The topical really worked miracles,” he said, mostly to himself, as he slid his fingers against Jacob’s forearm. “Your skin is gonna scar. But the important part is that they’re not hurting, or itching.”

“Yeah,” Jacob mumbled.

Hyrum let go and yawned. “I’m exhausted. So I’m gonna hit the sack before I pass out.”

“I kept you awake last night, didn’t I?” Jacob asked as he pulled his jeans back on, glad that it was the last time he would have to undress in front of the Whitetail.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” Hyrum said and smiled. It had been the second night in a row, but Jacob didn't need to know that; he'd just get annoyed at himself.

Hyrum stood, taking the bag and supplies with him. He threw the bag in the trash and left the tweezers and scissors on the kitchen counter, so he could disinfect them later.

“Good night,” Jacob said softly.

“Good night, Jake,” Hyrum replied. Jacob smiled at his shortened name. “Remember to drink tea before bed, and take it easy for a few more weeks. Then you can go back to being a scruffy mountain man."

Jacob laughed. “Yeah. I'll take it easy."

***

_ Jacob _

The voice was distantly familiar, its cadence a reminder of someone. It repeated and repeated, calling out to him. It was just his name, but it told him so much. The tone was desperate, nearly pleading, so something was wrong.

_ Jacob _

He was in a fugue-like state, and it was almost like he was underwater. The voice started to pull him to the surface, though, dragging him through muddy waters. There was no voice quite like it, he realized as it repeated, muffled, but it was growing clearer every second. Then it was as if he’d broken the surface and every sound was amplified by tenfold.

“Jacob! Wake up!”

Jacob opened his eyes, confused and lost. It took him a few seconds to place the bright green eyes staring at him inches away from his own. Suddenly it all came flooding back — the Collapse, Wolf’s Den, Hyrum — and Jacob drew a long, shuddering breath.

“Finally. Are you all right?” Hyrum’s voice was calm, yet oddly strained.

“Yeah. I guess,” Jacob managed to mutter. Slowly, he started to understand what was happening. Hyrum was on top of him, his fingers wrapped tightly around his wrists, his nails pressing against his skin. His weight was on his thighs, pinning his legs against the mattress.

“You scared me,” Hyrum said and sighed, slackening his grip. “Was it a nightmare? Or a flashback?"

Jacob remembered the terror he’d felt, and his heart hammered against his ribs, his breathing still shallow and too quick. Hyrum had worry written across his face when he let go and leaned backward, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his back. His hair was a mess from sleeping, and he’d tied it to a sloppy bun, with loose strands framing his face. He had curls stuck to his forehead and his skin glistened with sweat.

“I think it was a nightmare,” Jacob replied finally, blinking and clearing his throat. “What happened?”

“You were screaming. And when I came here, you took a swing at me,” Hyrum said, pointing at his split lower lip. He was smiling. “It was pretty powerless, but still. That’s why I pinned you down.”

Jacob winced. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Wasn’t your fault,” Hyrum said quickly. “I’ve experienced worse. You look really pale.” His hand quickly found its place, sliding against Jacob’s jawline, his fingers threading amidst his thick beard. “You wanna talk about it?” His tone was extremely soft.

“No. It was just… A dream,” Jacob said, clearly wanting to avoid the subject. His eyes looked pained, and his t-shirt was glued to his skin.

Hyrum smiled and brushed his scarred cheek with his thumb. Their eyes met, and for a fraction of a second something flashed in Hyrum’s eyes, but he quickly hid it. For some reason, he hadn't moved. But his weight felt comforting. and his hand was warm, so Jacob couldn’t complain. He gazed into Hyrum’s eyes, and his head felt like it was full of cotton candy, and his thoughts were murky and slow. It was like he was recovering from a flashback, but he hadn’t had those in a long time. It had most likely been a nightmare. Albeit an extremely realistic one.

Jacob’s eyes widened, as Hyrum leaned closer and supported himself against the headboard with his free hand. He was blinking and smiling nervously. “You need some distraction?” he asked quietly, parting Jacob’s lips with his thumb. His voice had a teasing edge to it, but his chest was heaving, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. Jacob hadn’t noticed before that he had small freckles on his slightly crooked nose and his cheeks. “Jake?"

After pondering for a moment, Jacob nodded, not trusting his voice, because he had a pretty good guess what was coming. Hesitance flickered on Hyrum’s face, but despite it, he bridged the gap between them and pressed his mouth against Jacob’s. He was surprised how rough his beard felt against his skin, and equally surprised how good it felt.

A second passed, then another, before Jacob melted into the kiss. Hyrum slipped his tongue inside his mouth, whining as their tongues brushed against each other. It wasn’t a shy kiss, but rather demanding and hungry. A stray moan escaped from Hyrum’s throat, and Jacob swallowed it, pushing his tongue deeper into his mouth. He brought his hands to Hyrum’s waist, as he didn’t know where else to put them, digging his fingers into the soft flesh. It was absurd, but the overwhelming pleasure wiped away the remnants of the nightmare, and Jacob’s mind went completely blank.

As he slid his tongue against Hyrum’s lips, he could taste salt, and without thinking, he pressed his tongue into the cut, and he could feel Hyrum’s muscles trembling under his hands. When he couldn’t taste anything else than blood, he shoved his tongue back into the Whitetail’s mouth, making him whimper.

The kiss seemed to go on forever. It had been a while since Jacob had last kissed someone, and even though he didn’t understand what the meaning behind the kiss was, he wasn’t about to start asking questions. Hyrum’s fingers curled into his beard, and his hair tickled his eyes. Jacob slipped his hands to his back, making him jerk backward in, if not exactly fear, then maybe trepidation.

Hyrum’s lips were tinted with blood and his breathing was ragged. He threw his hand on his nape, rubbing the sore muscles, his eyes staring into nothingness. Then he breathed out and leaned closer again, but Jacob stopped him by settling his hands against his chest and pushing him back.

“What’s wrong?” Hyrum asked, his voice low and breathy. He looked worried again.

Jacob shook his head. “That’s enough.”

“What?”

“Leave it.” Jacob knew his tone was too sharp, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize for it.

“You didn’t like it,” Hyrum said, his brow furrowed and his breathing hitching. He straightened his back, and to Jacob’s disappointment, he took his hand away from his cheek.

“It’s not about whether I liked it or not,” Jacob said ambiguously, struggling to keep his voice steady. His body had reacted without his permission, and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn’t feel just naked, he felt flayed, that’s how vulnerable he was at that moment.

Hyrum tensed. “What's it about then?”

Jacob could see that he was getting agitated, and for some reason, it annoyed him. “It’s none of your business,” he snapped, frustrated with himself more than anything. Jacob watched as Hyrum’s eyes widened and a pained expression spread to his face when climbed off. Hyrum pinched his brow, trying to even his breathing by taking slow and deep breaths as he got to his feet.

“So… Why’d you kiss me back?” he asked, his cheeks flushed.

“I dunno,” Jacob replied and sat. He was glad he’d been too tired to take off his clothes in the evening, but unfortunately, his dick pressing against his jeans didn’t escape Hyrum’s attention. He scowled, his eyes fixated on the bulge in Jacob’s jeans, and Jacob knew there was no point in covering it. He was mortified, and he avoided looking at the Whitetail so he wouldn’t notice how ashamed he was.

“Did I read into this?” Hyrum asked, waving his hand between him and Jacob. “Or is this another one of your manipulation tactics?”

“What?” Jacob hissed, his eyes suddenly blazing with anger as he flicked his eyes to Hyrum. “What the hell does  _ that _ mean?”

“Nothing,” the man replied hastily and took a step back. He looked scared, and his hands were shaking. “Forget I said anything.” His jaw clenched and he blinked rapidly as he whisked around.

“No, you don’t get to do that!” Jacob snarled, as Hyrum darted out of the room. “Fuck,” he muttered between his teeth. He had absolutely no idea what he should do next. It had been a mistake to kiss him back. And it was impossible to just brush it off as curiosity since Jacob had made an actual effort. He sat still until his heart stopped pounding and his erection flagged, occasionally rubbing his temples as if it would somehow help.

After a while Jacob got to his feet, dithering for a fleeting second because he wasn’t sure if it was smart to confront Hyrum. But nonetheless, he went to look for him and found him pacing around the kitchen, his hands balled into fists and his frown deep. Jacob stood in the doorway, following the man with his eyes as he began to walk in circles around the kitchen table.

“Look, kiddo—”

“Fuck you.”

Jacob flinched. “Hyrum—”

“I said,” he replied, glowering at his feet. “Fuck you.”

“I just wanna know why, that’s all,” Jacob said quietly, trying to keep his voice level.

“Oh, you wanna know why.” Hyrum’s voice rose and he stopped pacing as he turned to look at the former Herald. “Like I said. It was a fucking distraction.”

“Then why did you keep at it? That doesn’t explain it,” Jacob snapped back at him.

“Because I had nothing better to do,” Hyrum replied sarcastically. “Well, what do you think, genius? We’ve been locked here for three fucking weeks! I have  _ needs _ . I’m human, okay? Excuse _ me _ that I’m not as holy and righteous as you are.”

“What?” It was the only thing Jacob managed to say. He’d never heard Hyrum speak in such manner. And the thing that bothered Jacob the most was his tone. It was full of venom and anger, making him sound downright hostile. Jacob didn’t know him that well, but it was still concerning, to say the least.

“Why the hell did you kiss me back?” Hyrum asked, spitting the words out of his mouth. He crinkled his nose and took a deep breath. There was no trace of the meek-mannered man left. He was full of wrath. “And don’t fucking tell me you don’t know!” He was practically yelling, but as a seasoned Herald, Jacob didn’t even blink. He was now in control of his emotions — the same couldn’t be said about Hyrum.

Jacob leaned against the doorframe. He crossed his arms and sighed. “I’m not sure.” His stare was flat, and nothing gave away the fact that he was lying.

“Well, you certainly liked it,” Hyrum said, almost mockingly, and turned his eyes away, ashamed. His chest was heaving as he tried to stop himself from yelling. Jacob noticed that he was on the verge of tears.

“It was just a physical reaction.”

Hyrum visibly tensed, and his shoulders hiked up. “Oh, give me a fucking break,” he snapped, flicking his eyes back to Jacob. “You could’ve pushed me away. You could’ve done  _ anything, _ but instead, you chose to kiss me back. I don’t understand it.” His tone was desperate. “Just explain  _ that. _ It sure as fuck seemed like you enjoyed it. Physical reaction my ass.”

Jacob bit his lip. “Yeah. You caught me off guard, that’s all.” It was a weak excuse, and they both knew it. “And… What the hell did you mean by manipulation?"

Hyrum groaned. “I… It’s just… Forget it. I didn’t mean it. It just slipped out.” His shoulders dropped and he breathed out, his anger suddenly extinguished. “Shit,” he muttered as he hung his head. He’d lost his temper — something that rarely happened. Under normal circumstances, he was able to keep his cool no matter what. But being locked up with minimal human contact was getting to him, and he wasn’t that good with handling rejection.

Jacob watched him, carefully examining his expression. “I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

“Too late,” Hyrum replied and laughed dryly. He was frozen in place, his nails dug into his palms. He was ashamed, and even the sheer thought of moving made him anxious as if it would somehow cause more damage. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was supposed to be a distraction, just to get your mind off the nightmare, because you looked so shaken. And I didn’t think you’d even kiss me back. There was  _ nothing  _ sexual in the initial thought, but I just got carried away.”  _ Because it was that fucking good, _ Hyrum thought to himself. “Look, I assumed that you’re—”

“Straight?” Jacob interrupted, sounding slightly offended.

Hyrum sighed. “Yeah.” He felt like he’d let Eli down — kissing Jacob Seed  _ and _ getting turned on by it? It was unacceptable. Guilt wrapped its steely fingers around his throat and he struggled to catch his breath.

“I’m not much for labels, but straight isn’t something I’d use to describe myself,” Jacob confessed, his voice now monotone. It was vague as fuck, but Hyrum took it. He nodded and managed to force his eyes to meet Jacob’s. He was eerily calm.

“I’m…” Hyrum sighed. “Sorry, okay? I overreacted.”

Jacob shrugged. “I get it. Look, let’s just—”

“Ignore this? Good.”

“I was gonna say let’s put this behind us because you’ve done nothing wrong. You didn’t overreact. It’s fine, all right?”

“Yeah,” Hyrum muttered and scoffed. “So, I’m guessing… I’m not allowed to kiss you again?”

“You guessed right,” Jacob said, and only a keen observer would’ve noticed that his voice faltered just a bit. But Hyrum didn’t, so he didn’t know that Jacob was lying again. Why he lied was beyond him, and he already regretted it.

Hyrum forced a smile, and it was so obviously fake that a cringe nearly slipped from Jacob. He let his gaze fall, so he wouldn’t have to face the consequences of his words.

So he didn’t see it when Hyrum stared at him, swallowing and wiping tears off his cheeks. He was hurt, and it was nearly impossible for him to understand what was going on. He couldn’t ask if it had something to do with Eden’s Gate, or was he just not good enough for Jacob. Whatever the reason was, he would probably never get to hear it.

“Should I make some tea?” Hyrum asked meekly, clumsily changing the subject as the silence grew too heavy for him to handle. “Or do you wanna go back to sleep?”

“No, I don’t think I can sleep. But tea sounds nice,” Jacob replied and pushed himself upright. He glanced at his wristwatch. It was almost four in the morning. “I can make it.”

“Thanks.” Hyrum dragged himself to sit at the table, and when Jacob finally had the courage to look at him, he was resting his head against the wooden surface. His eyes were half-shut, his hands on his lap. He looked like a battered dog, and Jacob felt pity again.

He knew that against all odds everything had been going smoothly — he hadn’t heard Hyrum crying at night in a while, and their relationship had been civil. But now it seemed like everything was in pieces, and neither of them knew what to say, or do, to make it better.

“Remember to put honey into yours,” Hyrum muttered.

“I will,” Jacob replied, his tone flat. He bit his lip. Nothing seemed to prevent the Whitetail from caring, and it was annoying. Even now, when he was hurt, he was kind. His outburst had been a shock to Jacob, though. And, as painful as it was, he had to admit that he'd severely underestimated Hyrum. “Does chamomile sound good?”

“Yeah.”

Jacob shook his head, as he couldn’t take his mind off the kiss. He wanted to push it out of his mind, but it was impossible. He could still taste Hyrum, and it was like his warmth still lingered against his lips and on his cheek. And even the thought alone made his breathing hitch and his heart hum loudly in his ears. Jacob gnashed his teeth together, ashamed that his flesh was so weak.

He filled the electric kettle and flicked it on, before turning around and crossing his arms. The tension between them was nearly impossible to ignore, and Jacob tried to figure out something to say, that would help. But Hyrum was quicker than him.

“You know, there’s this place,” he started and straightened his back. “It’s about thirty miles from Cape Town. It’s in the far south, at the tip of the Cape Peninsula. It’s called the Cape of Good Hope.” Hyrum placed his hands on the table, and started to pick at his cuticles. “And it’s so damn beautiful. The ocean is greenish-blue, and it looks like it goes on forever, and the sky curves over it, bending behind the horizon. Whenever I was in Cape Town, I’d go there every night. I’d sit there on the beach with sand between my toes, and I’d listen to the lapping of the waves. Often I'd watch the sun come up. Or I would go swimming at night when the ocean was pitch black.” He turned to look at Jacob and gave a small smile. “I don’t know if it’s there anymore, though.”

“Me neither, kiddo,” Jacob replied softly. He hesitated but decided it was best to join Hyrum. He sat opposite him, like usual, and leaned back in his chair. Hyrum stared at him, his lips curled up in a sad smile. He looked so young and vulnerable now that he wasn’t angry, or yelling.

“And the sky, my God, the sky,” he said and breathed out. “You wouldn’t believe how small and insignificant I felt when I stood under it for the first time. Suddenly, I realized how far from home I was. It was… Breathtaking.” Hyrum pressed the heel of his hand to his eye and laughed quietly. “Fuck, I’d give anything to go there again.” He sounded choked.

The water reached its boiling point and the kettle beeped. Jacob sighed and stood reluctantly. On a whim he laid his hand briefly on Hyrum’s shoulder, patting it lamely, before leaving him.

“So, how’d you end up going there in the first place?” Jacob asked as he poured water into the mugs, flicking his eyes to Hyrum.

“My dad. He was there for two months every year. After I graduated I started going with him once, or twice a year,” Hyrum explained and stared at Jacob. “Life was much simpler before, wasn’t it?”

Jacob hummed as he brought the mugs to the table. “Yeah, it was,” he said and sat. “I always knew what I needed to do, and now…” He shrugged.

“No fucking idea.”

“Yeah.”

Hyrum wrapped his fingers around his mug and sighed heavily. “I really am sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s fine.”

Hyrum wanted to argue. He wanted to say, that no, it’s not fine. But instead, he just stared into his mug, fighting the urge to smash his head against something. What the hell was wrong with him? Jacob was, well, Jacob fucking Seed. Hyrum felt sick to his stomach, as he realized how much he wanted to kiss the redhead again. He was lonely, needy and desperate. That had to be it, he concluded.

“I’ve never been abroad,” Jacob said, startling Hyrum. “Well, besides the obvious.”

“Oh. Well… Is there a place you’d like to go to?”

Jacob hummed. “Somewhere warm, but not too warm. A mild climate would be nice. It’s not possible, but—”

“We don’t know that.” Hyrum’s voice was stern. He flicked his eyes up. “I mean… It all could be there, you know? We just don’t know.” His voice softened. The conversation was again straying too close to reality, and Hyrum grew nervous. He didn’t wish to jeopardize anything, but he felt like he’d already done irreversible damage.

“Yeah. It could.” Jacob sounded skeptical.

They sat in silence, Hyrum growing more anxious by the minute, and Jacob actively trying to concentrate on anything else than the man sitting opposite him. But it proved to be impossible, and his eyes kept straying. They were, after all, trapped, and it wasn’t like there was anyone else around. Jacob sighed. He was stupid. So fucking stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our bois got some action.  
And let's all collectively facepalm at our stupid bois, shall we?  
If you enjoy my writing, please drop a Kudos, or a comment. Or you can come and pester my ass on Tumblr (wolfnotadevil). Anyways Imma go eat some ice cream now, cos I sure as hell deserve it.


	5. I know I have been absent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again my beautiful bastards!  
I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did when I wrote this.

For John, there was nothing worse than being separated from his brothers. The last time had nearly killed him, and now he felt like he was dying all over again. He felt barren and hollow, and he wondered if it was the same way Jacob had felt all those years ago. It was like his heart had shriveled into a small, barely beating lump in his chest.

John dreamt of his brothers nearly every night, and usually, it was the same dream. In it, they were reunited, and they were gathered around a bonfire. The light from the flames danced on the ground, throwing shadows behind them. It was late autumn, judging by the bright colors of the leaves — orange and red in all their hues. John would rest his head against Jacob’s shoulder, his fingers intertwined with Joseph’s as the cold night air nipped at his cheeks. And he felt at peace.

Little did John know, that it wasn’t a dream at all — it was a vision. And it wasn’t the only one like it he had seen.

John loved his brothers, and the love was stronger than the longing he felt. And that love was probably the only reason he was able to stay sane during the month he spent in that small bunker of his. Granted, a month was a bit of an exaggeration, but he’d wanted to play it safe.

Before the Deputy, John was constantly accompanied by a nagging thought that he should prepare a spare bunker close to his gate — why, he couldn’t say. He’d found a suitable one, and after some thorough convincing, the owner had given up the bunker. He was now long gone, as John didn’t take kindly to people resisting him. It was located four hundred yards away from his gate, nestled under thick pine trees, and built into a craggy mountain slope. The entrance was partially covered by shrubs, so it wasn’t clearly visible from nearby footpaths.

And now it was time for John to go outside. He had only one goal in mind — he had to find his brothers. He’d packed a backpack a day earlier, filled it with enough supplies to last for two days.

John took a deep breath and began to climb the ladder which would lead him outside, his Geiger counter hanging from his belt. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears and his palms were sweaty. He was armed with a large hunting knife and a pistol, the former attached to his belt and the latter strapped to his thigh.

“Okay then,” John muttered and pushed the hatch open. He climbed out, listening closely, but the steady, quiet rattling noise that the Geiger counter emitted didn’t change. He breathed out in relief — Holland Valley seemed to be safe.

The sunlight against his skin felt good after being holed up so long underground. For a moment John stood still, facing the sun and breathing in the fresh air. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the warmth. Finally, he breathed out and unsheathed his knife. He decided to carve their cross into an old pine tree right next to the entrance. He couldn’t say what the reasoning behind it was, though. After he was done, he nabbed the small pieces of bark stuck to the blade, before sheathing it.

He had to get going, so he closed the hatch, making sure it was still hidden. He started to make his way south, circling around the small lake beneath the slope. It was like the whole forest had been deserted by animals, which it probably was. There weren’t a lot of sounds; none of the usual rustling, or shuffling. There was just a faint bird call coming from afar and the snapping of branches under his boots.

John had no idea where his brothers were, or if they were separated or not. And if they even knew it was safe to go to the surface. Joseph was most likely somewhere waiting for a sign from God, like in a bunker, or at his compound. Jacob on the other hand… Well, there was no telling where he was. His elusive nature made it difficult for John to follow his train of thought.

John kept going until he reached a suspension bridge, which would get him to a dirt road. The road lead to his bunker in the north, but it also connected to a paved main road in the south, which circled around Holland Valley. Part of him wanted to go to his bunker, just to check if anything was left of it. But John had heard the explosions — hell, he'd felt them as his spare bunker had rattled loudly because of them. There was nothing left of his bunker, that he was sure of. He was also sure that most of his men were now dead.

As John crossed the bridge, he kept his eyes peeled on the valley. Trees were shrouding his view, but he caught a glimpse of a burned area in the south. John flinched as the bridge swayed in the wind and the wood creaked slightly under his weight, making the hairs on his neck stand up. The waterfall gushed relentlessly under him, almost covering up the loud groaning of the bridge. John hurried across it, sliding his hand along the wire rail. He never liked bridges and he breathed out in relief as he jumped off.

John started to jog along the hard dirt road, heading past the security gate, and towards the farmlands in the valley. He huffed as he wiped a loose curl from his eyes, before correcting the position of his sunglasses on top of his head. He missed his hair products, but they hadn’t been a priority while prepping. His hair was slightly overgrown, just like his beard. But it didn’t matter — he could focus on his vanity once he was reunited with his brothers. Though he had to admit, he looked pretty good with a longer, thicker beard.

His backpack pressed his shoulders painfully, and he regretted that he’d never listened to Jacob about proper hiking attire, how to pack a backpack and so on and so forth. His clothes — camo pants and fatigues, stolen from Jacob a few months ago — were a bit too big for his figure. He’d rolled up the sleeves so they wouldn’t hang awkwardly at his fingertips. The thought of his brother made John smile, and his chest felt tight as he brought the lapel of the fatigues to his nose. It still smelled like Jacob — gun oil, smoke, and something that resembled blood. It made him feel safe like his older brother was still looking after him.

John reached the bridge close to Lamb of God church, only to notice that the church was a charred pile of wood. The trees and bushes around it were burned to a crisp. The narrow river snaking through the valley had stopped the fires from spreading further to the east. Everything west of it looked like it was completely gone, though, including the vegetation in the mountains. Most likely their ranch was also in ruins. It was a setback, yes, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. The ranch, even though important before the Collapse, wasn’t important anymore. It held no significance to Eden’s Gate or Joseph for that matter.

The rivers and mountains fencing Hope County created a natural barrier, which had fended off the worst fires, as the nukes had gone off in the west and east. And as Holland Valley was lush and wet, the fires hadn’t spread very far.

Yes. The nukes. John’s handiwork, which he wasn’t especially proud of. Joseph would be pissed when he would find out, but he’d forgive John, right? He had only wanted to make sure that Joseph’s prophecies came true. He couldn’t be angry about that, now could he? Everything John had done was done out of love — surely Joseph would understand that.

And even though John had orchestrated the Collapse, he wasn’t sure how much destruction there had been. Montana should be safe, as well as the area south of it, stretching all the way to the Mexican border, as per his orders. It was a crosscut of the country, and it contained lots of forests, mountains, lush farmlands, and fields as well as lots of fish and game — everything that Eden’s Gate might need. And there would be a new world order, and Joseph would be the leader. Everyone who couldn’t accept that would be killed and fed to dogs. Or wolves. Or Jacob. John didn’t really care.

He headed east, following the paved road that would eventually bring him to Lorna’s truck stop in the Henbane region. Of course, John was also worried about Faith, but his brothers were a priority. If he’d find Faith while looking for his brothers, fine, if not, then that would be fine too. They could always get a new one. Although John had grown to like this Faith, and he’d rather keep her than get a new one. Mostly because she always was kind towards him.

Well, he’d have to think about it later. His mind was preoccupied with his brothers, and there wasn’t room for anyone, or anything else.

John was going to go to Joseph’s compound first, so the smartest thing for him to do was to follow the road on the edge of Faith’s region until he would reach the island. It would take him a good while, though. It would be faster if he could find a car, but John wasn’t holding his breath. Besides, a car wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, or quiet. And what he’d learned from Jacob, it was better to be slow and quiet, than fast and loud.

Yes, there was no bunker in Joseph’s compound, but there was a chance that if Joseph knew it was safe to come to the surface, he would be at the church. And if not, John would continue looking. He would go through every bunker if necessary and kill everyone that stood in his way.

Fall’s End looked like it was in one piece, which was a good thing, but behind it, the scenery was charred and grayish black. It seemed like the southern parts of the valley were also burned. It didn’t matter that much since there was plenty of land untouched by the fires. Hope County was their home, so John was relieved to see that it wasn’t completely destroyed. It would hopefully dampen Joseph’s anger.

John pulled a notepad from his pocket and started to jot down all the details. He was adamant in showing Joseph, that even though he’d lied and built a secret bunker, and essentially torn their family apart, he was still loyal to him. And there was nothing else in the whole world that John loved as much as he loved Joseph. Well, Jacob was the only exception. Faith was in second place, not far behind.

As much as John wanted to find out the extent of the damage, he could do it later. It would be easier and faster with a chopper. He had a few hidden, but the travel from Holland Valley to Whitetail Mountains would take far too long, so it wasn’t worth it at the moment. He would rather go there with Jacob — after all, he knew the region better than anyone else. Which is why it would be nearly impossible to find him. He had all the bunkers and buildings memorized, and John was sure he could navigate through the forests in total darkness.

John crossed into Henbane and lifted his gaze to the northeast. Joseph’s statue was standing tall, a testament to his strength. Even though it was, in John’s opinion, idolatry, he never said it out loud to his brother. After all, it wasn’t his place. The statue had felt like a stupid idea before, but now when it was still standing after the Collapse, John felt glad that Faith had wanted to build it. Eden’s Gate had left a permanent mark upon the land, just like Joseph had told his brothers when they first came to Hope County.

Bliss fields were thriving, but it wasn’t a surprise. Well, they were more like meadows now, not fields, as they were severely overgrown. The white flowers were also dotting the hills near the river, aggressively spreading everywhere. Everything looked just slightly unkempt, but John didn’t find it distressing. It was just nature doing her work.

Eden’s Gate outreach center still had John’s billboards in place. Surprisingly enough the Deputy hadn’t gone on a rampage to destroy them. They were now useless, but they were still a sign of their power and it made John smile. He paused for a moment to take in the sight because he needed every bit of strength he could get.

He continued following the paved road, walking past the small dirt road which would lead him to Dutch’s Island. For a second John thought checking there, but he shrugged it off. There was no way in hell Joseph was there, and it was likely there weren’t many supplies either. Not worth the detour. Besides, John really didn’t want to bump into Dutch, as it wouldn’t end well.

Good thing was, that he had several months before winter came. The weather was tolerable even in September, so that would give him about four and a half months. John wasn’t sure how he’d survive the winter alone. He had enough supplies at the bunker to last for a year at least. But winters in Montana were harsh and vile, and he didn’t wish to get trapped inside his bunker for the duration of it. He prayed that four months was enough time to find his brothers.

John started to cross the bridge leading into Joseph’s compound, and he was so nervous that his hands were shaking and his heart was tearing through his ears. He looked in the direction of Whitetail Mountains, and it seemed to be mostly untouched. The jagged mountains were partially burned, including around the radar station. There was, however, more green than gray in the distance.

Not being able to control himself anymore, John broke into an enthusiastic run, and he ran the whole way along the main road, smiling as he realized that the island had been safe from the fires. Which meant that the church would have to be in one piece. His boots hammered the asphalt in a staccato rhythm, his breathing heavy and labored.

To John’s dismay, the compound was deserted, and it looked like there had been some sort of an altercation — there were shells on the ground, bullets lodged in the walls and doors of the buildings. John blinked back tears, even though he knew for certain Joseph was alive — God wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

John pulled out his radio, which he’d turned off after he’d heard the heartbreaking eulogy Joseph had given about him and turned it on. He switched to Joseph’s frequency, his hands shaking.

“Joseph? Are you listening? It’s John.”

His voice sounded pathetically weak and it made him cringe. He held his breath, but there was no answer. John decided to leave the radio on, just in case someone would try to contact him. At this point he didn’t care who it was — he just wanted to talk to someone. He clipped his radio to hang from his belt next to the Geiger counter.

So, no Joseph, which meant that John needed to leave and continue searching. Suddenly he felt anxious — where would he start looking? Holland Valley? Henbane River? Whitetail Mountains?

His plan started to feel stupid — first he was supposed to check his own region, then Faith’s, and last Jacob’s, mainly because Joseph was never fond of the jagged mountains. Neither was he fond of the lushness of the Henbane. But the valley had always been his favorite. It would be nearly impossible to comb through every nook and cranny of Hope County alone. But it wasn’t like John had a choice. He couldn’t just sit and wait for a miracle.

John breathed out, pinching his brow. He wasn’t tired, but he still wanted to lie down between the pews for a nap. He didn’t do it, though. Instead, he scribbled a note for Joseph and tore the page off his notebook. He placed it on top of the pulpit, hoping that Joseph would find it if he’d ever come there. He read the note one more time. It was ambiguous, but Joseph would understand. And so would Jacob.

_ I’m fine. _

_ If you find this note, come to the shores of the place you said wasn’t quite heaven, but halfway there. Head a bit north, and look for our mark in the trees. _

_ John _

With a sigh, John sat down on one of the pews, and he found the smoothness of the wood comforting. He’d spent so many hours sitting there, listening to either Joseph or Jacob preaching. John missed Joseph’s sharp voice echoing in the church and his near-flamboyant gestures. He missed Jacob’s relentless pacing and his calm, yet strong voice.

He clasped his hands and propped his elbows against his thighs, pressing his forehead to his hands.  _ Better late than never, _ he thought.

“I know I have been absent,” John said quietly, his voice echoing ever so slightly in the empty church. He closed his eyes. “And I know I haven’t reached out to you in a long time. Joseph always said that one shouldn’t just ask things from you.” He let out a small laugh. “But… That’s what I have to do. I need help. I’m alone. Well, that you knew already. I have a plan and I… I need a sign. And some reassurance. I need to know that if I continue on this path, I will find my brothers. No matter what trials you put in front of me, I’ll survive. But I need to know… Will I find them?”

After a minute of listening to total silence, John dropped his hands and opened his eyes. He blinked rapidly to get rid of the dampness in his eyes. As he got to his feet, he felt calmer — still a bit hopeless, though. But definitely calmer. He didn’t know if it was the prayer, or the church, but it didn’t really matter.

The empty church was a cruel reminder of how much their lives had changed during the years they’d spent in Hope County. John remembered what it had been like when they first arrived there. Everyone had been polite and kind, and people would come by the church, and they would chat with Joseph. Everyone seemed to love him — partially because he hosted barbeques, and was warm and welcoming. He always had time for people. Even in the middle of the night.

Everything went well until they started preparing for the Collapse. During that time Joseph grew aggressive. He’d sic John at sinners, giving him the permission to tear their sins off their bones. Jacob had started his conditioning and his training, kicking them in full gear in a matter of weeks after getting the all-clear from Joseph. They’d always been Joseph’s weapons, but it had come as a surprise to John how cruel Joseph could be.

Even though John had always known the plan, he was a bit sad to see how people started avoiding them. Fearing them, even. For the first time, all three Seed brothers had been part of a community. Strong pillars, John dared to think, and then they were not. Suddenly they were dangerous. Suddenly they were a threat to be eliminated.

And suddenly the Ryes weren’t John’s friends anymore. Especially Nick became downright hostile, no matter how hard John tried to help them and their unborn child. He’d spent so many evenings pleading to his sensible side, but to no avail.

“Depraved sinners, the lot of them,” John muttered to himself. “They didn’t understand, because they didn’t think. They had no faith, so they were blind. They assumed Joseph was wrong, that he was crazy, but he was not. They thought Joseph was lying, or that he’d lost his mind. But all of them had been wrong.” He laughed — a quiet, dry laugh.

John didn’t run as he left the compound behind him. He walked briskly along the main road, listening to his surroundings. The sounds of his footsteps were accompanied by bird calls and the lapping of waves. And in the background was the constant, quiet crackling of the Geiger counter.

John figured he should check the Holmes residence just in case, as it wasn’t that long of a detour. But it was empty like he’d anticipated. Doors were wide open and some of the windows were smashed, most likely from the firefight with the Deputy. John doubled back to the main road, humming quietly to himself.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw a large antlered deer on the road. Not being able to curb his excitement, he stepped closer, trying to get a better look. A twig snapped under his boot, startling the deer. It turned to look at him, and for a second they both stood still. Then it bolted towards the tree line, before disappearing from sight altogether. The last thing John saw was its white tail bobbing up and down amidst the undergrowth.

A smile spread to John’s face as his anxiety eased. He took it as a sign that God was taking care of him, and that he was on the right path. His devotion to his brothers wouldn’t go unrewarded.

John decided to trust in his plan, so he started to walk back to Holland Valley. He took a different route so he’d end up closer to the Silverlake trailer park, which was the first place in his region he would check. He crossed the Henbane River bridge, and the wood moaned under his weight, and the waves of the river below lapped at the banks.

The apple orchards were fine, and John hopped a fence so he could get his hands on the plump apples. Most of them had fallen, and he picked a few from the ground and a few from the trees. He’d left some room in his backpack for any supplies he might find, so he had plenty of space for the apples. John pocketed one of them, so he could eat it a bit later. He wasn’t hungry, but keeping his strength up was essential.

Silverlake trailer park seemed to be empty. But John was thorough, so he peeked inside every trailer, calling out to Joseph in a low voice. His heart sounded loud as it thudded in his chest. He grabbed some supplies here and there if it was worth taking — bullets, energy bars, jerky. His backpack was nearly full, but he couldn’t just pass up on food, or ammo.

When he’d gone through the whole trailer park, John sat on the steps of one of the trailers, chucking his backpack off. He pulled out the apple from his pocket, turning it around. It was bright red, and as he bit into it, his eyes fell shut. It was sweet and juicy; the first fresh thing he’d eaten in a month. It was perfect, and he didn’t even care that the juice smeared into his beard. He wolfed it down as quickly as possible, resisting the urge to lick his fingers.

John wiped his sticky hand to his pants, flicking the apple core in the bushes near the trailer. A break had been a good idea. He was full of energy again, and he was ready to seize the day. Next up would be Rae Rae’s pumpkin farm. He stood and jumped off the stairs, smirking to himself. He felt free and happy. Lonely. But happy. It was a weird feeling.

All the weight he’d carried on his shoulders was gone. The past held no power over him anymore, because all the pain was meaningless now. He had survived all the trials God had put him through — granted, there was still one left. But John would survive it too. He was sure of it.

As he left the trailer park behind him, he realized that he’d found his joy of scouring the forests and farmlands again. Something he’d lost some point during his miserable life with the Duncans. But now he was like a child, in awe of the wonders of the world around him. And because there was no one around to see him, he could smile and stare all he wanted.

With the Collapse the society as he’d known it had ceased to exist. It was a nearly euphoric feeling. The society which had cut him so deeply was now down on its knees in the ash. All because of John. He couldn’t help but smile. All his life he’d harbored wrath inside of him, and now it was gone. It had been gone since day one post-Collapse.

John had never noticed the beauty of the valley before, but now he looked constantly around, taking in the landscape. Everything looked exponentially beautiful to him. The rolling hills, the trees, fields, meadows, and rivers snaking through it. It was peaceful, just like God had intended. The birds flying high above were just small, black dots in the sky.

The shackles had been broken, and John was finally free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this was a bit special chapter, but don't worry, we're returning back to our bois in the Wolf's Den next week. Until then, thank you for reading! And if you enjoyed, please do leave a Kudos, or a comment if you can.  
Like always, you can come and pester my ass via Tumblr (wolfnotadevil)
> 
> Once again, thank you for reading. <3 xoxo


	6. Do I need to be worried?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh lord is it chapter six already? I swear, time is just flying past.  
So, as you may have noticed, I'm publishing a new chapter every weekend. Usually Saturday, but sometimes Friday, like now. Fyi I live in Finland, so it means that my timezone is UTC+3 atm. Hence the "I'm publishing a new chapter every weekend" lol
> 
> Anyways, I'm tired af and as always, enjoy and lemme know if I have some fuck ups. Love ya

Jacob had been a good soldier. He’d taken care of security, and he had been damn good at his job, and it was something that he’d been proud of. That was until the Deputy came along. It was embarrassing how he had managed to pierce through the defenses Jacob had spent years working on. Clearly he wasn’t as good as he thought he was — and it was a disheartening thought. Joseph had comforted him, telling him that no matter how high Jacob build the walls of their defense, God’s will, was God’s will. If God wanted the Deputy to get through, so be it. And not even Joseph could do much about it.

They’d suffered enough, and still God had been willing to put them through even more suffering. And fuck if it made any sense to Jacob. He wanted to be angry with God, but he couldn’t. In a way, it felt that if he was angry with God, he was angry with Joseph.

Jacob laid awake, his fingers interlocked behind his head, staring at the ceiling and listening to the quiet hum of the bunker, his thoughts running in circles. He wanted company, but he didn’t know how he should approach the situation. A groan escaped his lips as he realized how complex his life had become.

Fucking Whitetail. The kiss had made everything weird. They’d continued doing the same shit they always did — cooking, reading, talking. But there was a subtle undertone of resentment. The first few days after the kiss Jacob had thought he was imagining things. But as the days turned into weeks, it became clear to him that Hyrum did indeed harbor resentment. It was well hidden, but it was there. Just under the kind words and warm smiles. Even behind the small flirt and his deliberate, yet seemingly accidental touches.

Jacob sat up and jumped off his bed to flick on the lights. It was five in the morning, and he wasn’t sure if he’d slept at all, not that the time even mattered anymore. All his muscles felt stiff and his head cloudy, so it was possible that he’d snuck in a few hours of restless sleep at some point during the night. It was all a blur, really, so he couldn’t be sure. He went back to his bed and leaned against the headboard sighing heavily. Joseph’s book was on the floor, and after hesitating a moment whether or not he should read it, he grabbed it.

As Jacob leafed through it, he noticed how much he missed his brothers. For a long time, Joseph had been, like little brothers usually were, a thorn on his side. Very much like John. But now he longed for the bickering and all the stupid shit he did with John to annoy Joseph. Eldest or not, Jacob wasn’t the one in charge, Joseph was, so it was only natural that he got teased.

Jacob flipped to the first page and began to read. It was probably the third time he was reading it post-Collapse. It brought him comfort, as it was also the only physical reminder of his brothers. Jacob could feel the listlessness seeping through the pages. It was the same feeling he’d gotten whenever Joseph had talked about their childhood. Joseph was always cold, and indifferent when he spoke about it. But Jacob knew that it was his way of protecting himself.

Joseph had left out the goriest details of their abuse, and Jacob was glad that he had. No one needed to know how blood adorned the walls of their bedroom after they’d gotten whipped. After all the years, Jacob still felt responsible for his brothers, and he regretted his actions, which had led him to juvie and then later on to war. In the process of trying to protect his brothers, he’d managed to fuck everything up. He still carried the scars of his childhood on his back, just like his brothers did. But the guilt he carried was an extremely heavy burden.

Jacob closed the book and sighed, dropping it back onto the floor. He couldn’t read anymore. The memories were too painful, and if he closed his eyes, he could still hear John’s howls and cries as he was beaten by their father. Even though the Old Man Seed was long gone, Jacob still hated him.

With nothing to occupy his mind with, Jacob’s thoughts strayed to the kiss again, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Three fucking weeks and he still couldn’t shake the memory. And neither could his body. He hissed and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes as his heart picked up the pace and his breathing hitched.

Jacob shook his head and decided it was best to start the day, so he got to his feet and exited his bedroom. Like usual, the lights were on in the hallway, but there was also a light on in the kitchen, and Jacob paused with a frown on his face. Weird. Hyrum wasn’t usually up so early. For some reason, uneasiness washed over him. It was like something was off, but he couldn’t say what it was. A queasy feeling twisted his stomach.

As Jacob peeked into the kitchen, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was in their places and Hyrum was lying on his back on the couch, with an arm draped over his eyes. His other arm was hanging over the edge, nearly touching the floor. Jacob wasn’t sure if he was sleeping or not, so he walked up to him and laid a hand on his denim-covered shin.

“Kiddo?” he said softly and shook his leg. Hyrum’s shirt had hiked up, revealing a strip of his stomach. His skin was milky-white, and Jacob’s eyes latched on to the small, jagged scar next to his navel. At that moment all he wanted to do was to touch the soft skin, to feel the blood flowing underneath. But Hyrum twitched and groaned, startling Jacob.

“What?” he muttered, sounding extremely drowsy. He pulled his arm away from his face and squinted.

Jacob flicked his eyes away. “Did you fall asleep?”

“No, I wasn’t sleeping,” Hyrum replied, talking slowly like he was still half-asleep. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up and tried to focus his gaze on Jacob. There was something weird about his eyes; they were glazed, and his pupils were pinned out. But his stare was empty, and the sensitive skin under them looked bruised.

“What’s up with you?” Jacob asked. He sat on the edge of the couch and brought his hand to Hyrum’s cheek. His brow furrowed as he brushed his thumb against the damp, cold skin. “Kid? Are you alright? You’re freezing.”

“Yes, I’m alright.” Jacob hadn’t noticed it before, but he was slurring. It was subtle, but the slur was definitely there. Several seconds passed, as he tried to piece the puzzle together, moving his thumb robotically against Hyrum’s cheek.

Jacob flinched, as it dawned on him — the kid was high. He cupped his face and forced him to meet his eyes, squeezing his face a bit too tightly.

“Did you take something?” he asked, using the most authoritative voice he could muster. As Hyrum nodded slowly, Jacob stood abruptly, stifling an urge to slap him across his face. He started to scan his surroundings to find some sort of clue as to what he’d taken. The light from the ceiling flashed off of something on the floor, catching his attention.

It was a small, metallic box tucked partially under the couch. Jacob pulled it out and flicked it open. Syringes, needles, small glass vials, two smaller, but round metallic boxes, gauzes, tourniquet, and antiseptic wipes. His stomach turned, as he picked up the only empty vial and read the label. Fentanyl.

The only thing Jacob knew about it, was that it was extremely dangerous. Of course, he’d read about the opioid epidemic, but not in detail. His stomach knotted up from worry. Realistically, he knew he should trust that Hyrum knew how much he could take before it was life-threatening. But it didn’t dampen his worry in the slightest.

“Fuck,” Jacob hissed and slammed the box shut. He flicked his eyes to Hyrum, who was hanging his head and picking at his cuticles. His fingers were smudged with blood. “Kid,” he continued as he sat back on the couch. “How much did you take? Do I need to be worried?”

A shiver ran through Jacob. Why the hell was he worried about the man? It made no sense. It wasn’t like anyone forced him to take anything, it had been his choice and his choice alone. He made his bed, and he’d have to lie in it. But even Jacob knew it wasn’t fair.

“It’s not…” Hyrum started. He lifted his head and groaned. “I don’t… It’s fine,” he muttered as he ground the heel of his hand to his eye. His breathing was slow and heavy, almost like he was struggling to breathe. His thoughts felt like they were covered in tar, and everything took him several seconds longer than it usually would.

“Look, I don’t wanna get stuck down here with a rotting corpse, remember?” Jacob joked nervously. He winced at how his voice shook. “What can I do?”

“I’m high.”

Jacob rolled his eyes. “I know that.” He groaned and threw his arms around Hyrum. Albeit, it was an extremely awkward position, but it didn’t matter. Jacob pressed the man against his chest and hugged him tightly, as he threaded his hand amidst his hair. It was a cloud of messy, frizzled curls, and his neck was wet from sweat.

“I’m sorry,” Hyrum mumbled against Jacob’s chest. He spoke so slowly that it was winding the redhead up. But he just gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the annoyance churning in his stomach. He wanted to smack him around and yell at him, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good.

“We’ll talk more when you’re sober.” He could feel Hyrum’s hot and wet breath through his shirt, as the man finally wrapped his arms around him, his nails digging into his back. It felt like he was dragging several seconds behind, when he finally replied with a quiet, “Yeah.”

***

Jacob laid down the toolbox on the command center’s floor and straightened his back with a groan. There had been a problem with electricity — it had been fluctuating and Jacob had gone through a lot of wires until he’d found where the problem was. There had been a frayed electrical wire in the adjoining room, behind the dryer, but now it was fixed. So no more fluctuating, and no more fire hazard.

To his annoyance, Jacob had to give it to Eli — he'd made sure that electricity wouldn't be a problem. Solar panels, solar batteries, the whole nine. Wolf's Den was completely separate from the power grid, so it didn't matter if there was a nationwide blackout. Wolf's Den would have electricity as long as the sun was shining and the panels were in one piece. Eli had been a smart man, and Jacob thought it was a pity that he’d been on the wrong side.

Hyrum had been sleeping for several hours, and Jacob had checked on him more often than he was ready to admit. He’d been sleeping restlessly, curled up on the couch, sometimes mumbling, or whining in his sleep. Jacob had even brought him a blanket at one point when he’d noticed he was shivering violently. Another thing he wouldn’t ever admit to anyone. What happened in the bunker, would stay there, he decided.

Jacob bit back a yelp as a loud clatter rang through the bunker. He headed for the kitchen, sure that the kid had managed to fall, or hurt himself. Before he reached it, he could hear retching and heaving coming from the bathroom. The sound made him shiver in disgust.

“Kiddo?” Jacob called out as he peeked inside. Hyrum was leaning over the toilet, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Fuck off,” he hissed, bringing his hands to his head, and trying to keep his hair aside. He let out a pained whine as a shiver ran through his body. His shoulders jerked up as he dry-heaved and spat a few times.

“Can I do something?”

Hyrum opened his mouth to answer, but he just coughed and threw up again, digging his nails into his scalp. Jacob crinkled his nose and turned his gaze away as he leaned against the steel door frame. Seeing someone throwing up made his skin crawl, and he wouldn’t go an inch closer if he didn’t have to. He stared at the ceiling and crossed his arms.

“Oh god,” Hyrum whined and closed the lid. He leaned against the toilet, his shoulders shaking as he fumbled to flush it.

“So…” Jacob started and flicked his eyes back to the man. “Is that normal?” 

“Yeah. Could you leave me alone?” Hyrum turned to look at Jacob, who flinched at the sight. His eyes were bloodshot, his pupils dilated, leaving only a thin line of green around them. The skin under his eyes was even darker than before and his skin was a shade of sickly gray.

“I’d rather not.”

“Suit yourself,” the man replied, not willing to argue.

Giving in to the urge to take care of him, Jacob nabbed a hairband from the dresser and closed the gap between them. He squatted and began to collect Hyrum’s hair. Some strands were already wet with vomit, but Jacob didn’t care. As he ran his fingers along the lengths, he was careful not to tug at any tangles, making a sloppy bun. He recoiled at the smell of bile and leaned backward; a futile attempt to escape it.

“Is there something I can do to help?”

“No. I feel a bit better now, though.”

“Try to drink water when you can.” Hyrum wanted to point out that he was a nurse, and he knew he’d have to drink. But instead he just nodded. “Warn me if you’re gonna be sick,” Jacob said as he started to glide his hand against Hyrum’s back. His shirt was glued to his skin, and he felt extremely cold.

“I will.”

“Good.”

“Can I ask a favor?” the Whitetail said quietly, leaning against Jacob’s hand as if he was craving more. Jacob started to rub his back with his palm, drawing large circles. It seemed to be what he wanted, as he relaxed and exhaled forcefully.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Can you help me get in the shower? Not right now, but… Soon.”

“Sure,” Jacob replied slowly. “Is that all?”

“Well… Nah, forget it.”

“No, just spit it out.”

“I…” Hyrum struggled and he blushed. “I could use some help, just to make sure I don't slip. You don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Jacob glanced at the shower corner. It was on the smaller side, and there wasn’t that much room. Despite the limited room, he would hopefully be able to help without problems. His clothes would get wet, but it was a minor inconvenience. “Yeah. Sure, I’ll help.”

“Thank you.” It was barely a whisper.

“Yeah,” Jacob replied as he sat on the floor and leaned his back against the wall. Hyrum took it as an invitation and shuffled closer, before sprawling himself on top of his thighs. He plopped down with a small sigh. The denim felt rough against his cheek, but he couldn’t complain. Jacob’s hand found its way to his nape and his fingers caressed his damp skin, softly tugging at the short, loose curls in his neck.

“Why’d you do it?” he asked, still worried.

“Oh, I… Well, I used to go back to Ogden on my birthday, and I’d visit Keith’s grave. But now I can’t do it, and I just… lost it.” His voice was hoarse and weak. “I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

“Keith was the friend you told me about?”

“Yeah. I spent every birthday with him since I was fifteen, up until his death. And this is the first birthday I’m spending so far away from home. Not that I even have a home anymore, but you know. Away from Utah.”

“It’s today? Your birthday?” Hyrum nodded. “I didn’t know. You’re twenty-eight, right?”

“Yeah,” he replied, baffled, yet glad that Jacob remembered. “In hindsight, I should’ve talked to you, rather than getting high, but you know… Hindsight is twenty-twenty.” He was shivering, and his teeth were clattering. “You know, I spent all my life in Utah. I was born there and I honestly thought I’d die there. Never did I think that I’d end up in backwoods Montana.”

“It’s not that bad, though. The climate is more… pleasant, I guess,” Jacob said, a bit defensive about his home. It was, after all, the first place he had been able to call home since he’d left Rome behind.

“I didn’t say it was,” Hyrum muttered. “I love it here. At one point I… I thought I might call this place home, but… I don’t know anymore.” He sighed, rubbing his cheek against Jacob’s thigh, who was caressing his back with his fingertips. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved the salt flats of Utah. But for me, a home has never been a certain place or city. For me, home is wherever the other piece of my soul is. And… Well, I’ve lost it.”

Jacob hummed, and concerned about the man, he said, “How about that shower? It seems like you’re freezing.”

“I’m not,” Hyrum lied, as he didn’t wish to be a bother. But he was shivering and trembling, his breathing jagged.

“Yeah, right,” Jacob huffed. “Let’s get you warm, alright?” He waited until Hyrum had managed to push himself up to his knees. Without prompting, Jacob helped him stand up, holding his arms tightly so he wouldn’t keel.

“Jake.”

“Yeah?”

“You think… Joseph would’ve been able to help me?”

Jacob tensed, and his grip tightened. He didn’t realize that he was hurting the younger man, but it wasn’t like he said anything about it. Reluctantly, Jacob met his eyes. “Yes. There’s no doubt about it,” he replied truthfully. He’d seen Joseph help numerous addicts, and Jacob didn’t understand how he did it. He just did.

“Okay,” Hyrum replied and nodded. It was like he’d made some sort of a decision, and Jacob was sure he wasn’t going to share it with him. So he didn’t ask.

“If I get you fresh clothes, can you manage to undress?”  _ Please say yes, _ Jacob thought.

“Oh, um, I guess so. Thanks,” Hyrum said quietly and sat down on the toilet. The former Herald let go of him and straightened his back, taking note of the sorrowful look in his eyes.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” he said, unsure of how he could help.

Hyrum stared after him. The stomach-twisting nausea hadn’t eased up, but there was nothing for him to throw up anymore. After a few seconds of just sitting still and listening as his heart thudded in his ears, Hyrum pulled off his shirt and threw it in the corner. His jeans came off easy enough, although when he had to stand to yank them off, the room spun around a couple of times and he nearly threw up again.

When Jacob finally came back, after what seemed like an eternity, he had not only fresh clothes with him but also a fresh towel and a glass of water. He stared at the wall as he laid the pile on the dresser.

“Water?” he asked, keeping his tone flat to hide his nervousness.

“Yeah, thanks,” Hyrum replied and took the glass he was offered. He took a sip, waiting for his stomach to reject his pathetic amount. It didn’t, so he took another sip. It really didn’t help with the nasty taste he had in his mouth, but he was too used to it, so it didn’t bother him. It wasn’t his first rodeo, but he hoped it would be the last.

“Promise me something,” Jacob said as he took the half-empty glass from the Whitetail. He didn’t wait for a response. “Don’t ever do that again.” He forced himself to look at the man.

“I won’t,” he assured. “It was a mistake.”

“You seem to make a lot of mistakes.”

Hyrum cringed. “I have a habit of calling my fuck ups mistakes. Help me up, would ya? My knees feel like they’re made of pudding.”

Jacob snorted and stepped closer. He grabbed Hyrum by his arms and pulled him upright, a bit too harshly, he realized as he was met with his annoyed glare. Shamelessly Hyrum leaned against the redhead, knowing very well that he was making him uncomfortable.

“You sure you can’t handle yourself?”

“I’m not ashamed, Jake. Are you?” His teasing tone made Jacob scoff, and he didn’t even bother answering. He held on to Hyrum’s arms as he stepped past the shower curtain, making sure his eyes never strayed. But they did because the tattoo on his chest caught Jacob’s attention and it was impossible not to stare.

“That’s a nice piece,” he said and smiled. It was a black-and-white tattoo depicting a sword, which ran along Hyrum’s sternum. It looked like a broadsword, but Jacob wasn’t sure. Two, large angel wings spread from its handle, and they were nestled just under his clavicles. It was a detailed piece, and Jacob hummed as he thought how much John would love it.

“Thanks.”

“Does it represent the sword of Michael?”

Hyrum blushed. “Yeah. It was a birthday gift from Keith.” He lifted his hand and placed it over the tattoo. Suddenly a sob tore through him, and Jacob nearly jumped backward, not knowing what he was supposed to do.

“It’s okay, kid,” he said nervously, patting his arm. It was pathetic, and he knew it.

“Yeah,” Hyrum sniffled and wiped tears off his cheeks. He leaned against the wall as he turned on the water and winced when it ran cold for a few seconds, before warming up. “Your clothes will get wet.” His voice was nearly inaudible over the gushing of the water. There was no way in hell he’d be ashamed of his weakened state, but crying was a step too far, and he felt mortified because of it.

“It’s fine,” Jacob said and glanced down, where large drops of water were already soaking into his shirt. “Can you stand by yourself?”

“If I lean on something, then yeah, I guess,” Hyrum replied and placed his hands against the wall. Jacob let go of his arm and carefully removed his hairband, before pocketing it. He waited as the man stepped under the shower, sighing heavily as the warm water ran along his aching back.

After a few minutes of just standing still under the steaming hot shower, Hyrum backed away, sliding his hand against the wall. His pale skin had turned reddish, and he looked a bit more normal than just minutes before. Sighing heavily, he turned the showerhead so it pointed at the wall. That simple movement made him sway, but Jacob stopped him from falling by grabbing his shoulder.

“Careful,” he said. “Didn’t notice this earlier,” he continued, brushing his fingers over a small tattoo of ichthys on Hyrum’s right shoulder blade. It didn’t escape him how the man shivered, and how his lips parted at his touch. Jacob took a bar of lavender soap from the small shelf in the corner, clearing his throat. It was weird seeing someone enjoying his touches.

“Oh. I always forget that one.”

“Well, it’s on your back, so… I always forget too,” Jacob said as he rubbed the soap between his palms.

“What?” Hyrum asked and snapped his head to the side to meet Jacob’s eyes. It was too fast — the motion lines blurred his vision momentarily. But still, he managed to ask, “You have a tattoo?”

“Yeah, it’s our cross. Me and John both have it, it has roughly the same size and location as Joseph’s.”

The Whitetail was quiet for a while, but then he smiled. “That’s actually cool.”

“Really?” Jacob asked as he put the soap back. He hesitated, not sure where he should start, but then he realized how foolishly he was acting. There was no reason to be ashamed. “Turn your back.” Hyrum obeyed, pressing his hands against the tile wall.

“Yeah, I think it really is cool.” A quiet whine escaped his lips, as Jacob slid his hands against his back, kneading his fingers into the sore muscles. A sharp, “Shit”, escaped him when Jacob’s hands pressed against his shoulder blades, sending jolts of pain down his arms.

“Does fentanyl always make you tired?”

“No. It’s actually less tiredness and more muscle weakness and dizziness. I shouldn’t use opioids.” Hyrum groaned as Jacob’s fingers found an extremely sore spot on his lower back. “Because I hate how they make me feel afterward. That’s why I used uppers and the like before.”

“You shouldn’t use drugs at all.” Jacob didn’t even try to hide his chiding. “You have to get rid of them.”

“I know. I’m sorry, if I worried you. Wasn’t my intention. I have no idea why I was shooting up in the kitchen. It’s a bit of a blur.” His back was probably clean already, but Jacob didn’t stop. He kept rubbing his shoulders and his neck, and pressing his fingers into the muscles, which were starting to soften. It felt nice, but it was also a way to delay the inevitable — after all, in Jacob’s head, back was the least intimate place. And he really didn’t wish to embarrass himself by fucking up something as simple as washing another person.

When John had been struggling with drugs, just shortly after their reunion, Jacob had always delegated the task of washing and taking care of him to Joseph. He was ashamed of it, but Joseph had never once complained. He was more than happy that he could help his little brother. Jacob was happy that he didn’t have to help him.

“Turn around,” he said eventually and took the soap again to lather his hands with it. The smell of lavender had filled the bathroom, and the air was heavy and humid.

“I’m sorry. Your clothes are wet.”  _ Not sorry, _ Hyrum thought as he noticed how the shirt was glued so tightly against Jacob’s skin, that he could see his muscles moving under it. He leaned his back against the wall, trusting that he would stay upright.

Jacob noticed him staring, but didn’t acknowledge it. “It’s fine. It’s just water.”

“And soap.”

“Well, we have a washing machine, so… Yeah. This doesn’t bother you?”

“What, being naked?” Hyrum asked as he flicked his eyes upwards to meet Jacob’s. A grin tugged at his lips, but he managed to keep it at bay.

Jacob nodded, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“No. Should it? I mean… Plenty of people have seen me naked. The first time I was in rehab, the nurses had to help me shower, and oh god, I was  _ so _ embarrassed afterward. Though it was way worse than this. I was throwing up constantly and I was extremely paranoid and delusional.” He cringed. “I had to be sedated in the end when I hit a nurse. So, no, this doesn’t bother me in the slightest.”

“Oh. Well,” Jacob muttered when he put the soap back in its place. He didn’t know what ‘plenty of people’ meant, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t anything good. Jealousy nettled his heart, causing his stomach to drop. It was a strange and scary feeling, and Jacob merely pushed it away, so he wouldn’t have to think about it.

“You gotta eat,” he stated as he slid his hands against Hyrum’s chest. It was disturbingly easy to count every rib as he moved his hands down his sides. But, he had to admit, that the man’s way too lean body was achingly beautiful and desirable.

“What?”

“You gotta eat more.”

“Oh. You’ve noticed, then.”

“I wasn’t sure. But now I am. What’s going on?” Jacob squatted, keeping his eyes on Hyrum’s, as he slid his hands over his sharp hips. It was difficult for him to keep a straight face, as he glided his hands against the curve of his ass. He wanted to linger, but it would’ve been wrong to do so. “Kid?” he asked after the silence turned heavy, and patted Hyrum’s thigh softly.

“Oh. I’m not sure. I’m just not hungry,” he said and shrugged.

Jacob kept his other hand on Hyrum’s hip, as he quickly moved the other along his thigh, and down his calf. He moved on to his left thigh, but the skin on his inner thigh wasn’t smooth like he’d expected. Instead, it felt slightly jagged. He paused, feeling the soft flesh with his fingertips, painfully aware of how close his hand was to his groin. Hyrum let out a quiet whimper and he bit his lip to stifle any additional noises that might escape him. Jacob's hand moving up and down his thigh was starting to create familiar ripples of pleasure, and it made him nervous. He really didn’t want to get hard.

“Are these scars?” Jacob asked, his head tilted in an awkward position. His blue eyes were gleaming with worry.

“Yes, they are. But they’re old.”

“Okay, then,” Jacob replied, sounding a bit suspicious, and stood. “Rehab, huh?” he continued, switching the subject.

Hyrum’s cheeks were burning as he replied, “Yeah. First time it was meth, and two other times ecstasy.” He pushed himself upright, a mistake, he realized as the room started to spin. With a shriek he grabbed Jacob by his shoulders, bumping against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry. Can you stand, or do you need to sit down, or something?”

“No. I’m fine. Just gimme a minute.” He sounded out of breath, and Jacob winced as he dug his nails into his shoulders.

The rest of the time both were silent, and Jacob didn’t like admitting to himself that washing Hyrum’s hair felt surprisingly good. But he had to because the feeling of the soft, wet strands sliding between his fingers felt nearly euphoric. Jacob was glad that the man was able to finish up without his help. But it was still awkward to just stand around, as it took a large portion of his willpower not to let his eyes stray.

As Jacob wrapped a towel around Hyrum and helped him walk out of the corner, he noticed that he had a weird look on his face. He paused with a frown on his face. “What?”

“I gotta admit something,” the man said quietly, embarrassment flickering on his face.

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t mean that you need to wash me. I simply meant that if you could keep an eye on me, so I won’t slip and die.”

Jacob’s lips parted. “So… You’re saying…” He shook his head and sighed. “You could’ve said something earlier.”

“Sorry. But now I have something to think about before going to sleep.” Jacob blushed and stammered, his hands rubbing up and down Hyrum’s arms. “You can’t blame me, Jake. I haven’t gotten laid in three months. I’m suffering.” His tone was teasing, but Jacob knew that it was probably true.

“Kid, I swear, one day—”

“And the scenery isn’t half bad,” Hyrum interrupted and bit his lip, while locking eyes with Jacob. “Actually, it’s really nice.” His lips curled into a sly smile as he flicked his eyes down. There was nothing else he enjoyed more than a hunk of man with a wet t-shirt.

“I take it you’re feeling better,” the redhead said and cleared his throat, secretly pleased by the compliment.

“Still weak, but otherwise much better. Thank you.”

“Good,” Jacob said, leaving his hands on Hyrum’s shoulders.

“Can we sleep together tonight?” Jacob’s breathing hitched and he froze, unable to get a word out of his mouth. Hyrum tilted his head in confusion. Then the double meaning of his words dawned on him. “No!” he yelped. “Not like that! Share a bed! Sleep. Just sleep. Oh god.” He rested his head against Jacob’s chest and his shoulders shook as he started to laugh. First it was a small snicker, but then he started to laugh louder.

His laughter was infectious, and Jacob started chuckling when he pulled him into an awkward hug. “Yeah, we can do that.”

“Although the other kind of sleeping—”

“No.”

“Well,” Hyrum said and shrugged, still snickering. “Just say the word, if you ever want to.”

Jacob smiled as he pulled away from the hug. Even though Hyrum protested, he dried the man, making sure he was careful. After all, he didn’t wish to rough him up, even though he was still angry about the drugs. But it was increasingly hard to be mad at him — he was vulnerable and weak, and his green eyes had a constant apologetic look in them. Yes, he still wanted to smack him, but not as much as before.

When Jacob was finished, Hyrum’s eyes were shut and he was swaying. His hair was wet, but Jacob had no idea how he was supposed to dry it, so it wouldn’t get all tangled up. In the end he just kind of rubbed the wet strands with the towel, hoping it was enough.

“I like your hair, kid,” he said quietly, twisting the wet strands between his fingers. The water made his hair look significantly darker than it really was, and the curls were nearly straight.

“I like  _ your _ hair,” Hyrum said as he opened his eyes. “It looks really nice when it’s not shaven.”

“Is that so?” Jacob asked and raised a brow, slightly confused about where the compliments were coming from. He didn’t even think about the possibility that Hyrum was trying to get into his pants — the idea was too far fetched in his mind.

“Yeah. I like your beard too,” the man continued and lifted his hand. He threaded his fingers amidst Jacob’s beard and hummed. “You should grow it a bit more.” He was silent for a moment, before he suddenly pressed his body against Jacob’s, sneakily sliding his hand to his nape. If there was something Hyrum placed his trust in, other than God, it was the redhead’s ability to say  _ no, _ if he crossed any lines.

“What are you doing?”

“I wanna kiss you. So badly,” Hyrum muttered, rubbing circles against Jacob’s neck. He could feel his chest already heaving against his own, as he pressed even closer, suggestively bucking his hips against Jacob. It enticed a small whine from him. “I remember what you said, but… I wanted you to know.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well… It  _ is  _ your birthday,” Jacob said, his tone amused.

Hyrum took the hint. He stood on his tiptoes and interlocked his fingers behind Jacob's neck. Eagerly he pressed his mouth against his, gasping as the redhead immediately reciprocated and wrapped his arms around him. Even though the towel fell to the floor, they didn’t care. And all Jacob could think of was the soft, tender body trembling under his hands.

Unlike the first time, this time the kiss wasn’t as hungry. It was warmer, and as Jacob slipped his tongue inside Hyrum’s mouth, he noted that he tasted a bit acrid. But he didn’t give a shit, because the taste wasn’t that strong, or distracting. He couldn’t hold back his moans when Hyrum’s tongue brushed against his, demandingly pressing deeper.

Hyrum was once again surprised how rough Jacob's beard was, but he craved the roughness and the slightly uncomfortable feeling it caused. He couldn't help but wonder, as Jacob nipped at his lips, what it would be like to fuck him. But Hyrum was smart and he wanted to play his cards right. Desperate or not, he could always wait. After all, there was no telling how long they'd be stuck in there. Although waiting seemed nearly impossible — he was already hard, and if it were any other man, he would’ve already started begging. But because it was Jacob, he didn’t say a word.

And as they were completely alone, Hyrum didn't hold back his whines. It was exhilarating to notice how it affected Jacob — he shivered, and his nails scraped his back. Jacob’s hand slid upwards, and he examined the muscles on Hyrum’s back, sliding his fingers over his vertebrae. The pleasure was like small, electric shocks zapping at his fingertips, crackling under his hands.

No matter how much he wanted to, Jacob didn’t let his hands stray any lower than Hyrum's waist, where he eventually dug his nails in, so he’d be able to resist the temptation. The urge to slip his hands downwards to cup his ass was driving him crazy. But before he could decide whether or not to actually give in to the temptation, Hyrum broke the kiss with a whimper.

His eyes were half-shut and he was panting, the muscles in his arms trembling. Jacob kept him close, mostly because he would get cold if he didn’t. And partially because of the pressure of Hyrum’s body against his dick felt extremely good. Jacob’s heart thudded in his ears, as he realized that if he wanted to, he could just make a move. And Hyrum would bend to his will, and he could do anything to him. Break him, fuck him, twist him, hurt him, bleed him.

Jacob hummed, knowing that he wouldn’t do it, and stepped back to pick up the towel, biting back a whine as his dick pressed against his jeans. He wrapped the damp towel around Hyrum and smiled.

“Put on some clothes, alright? Do you want to read, or something?” he asked hastily, as a plan formed in his head. He was painfully aware of how badly he needed a release, and the kiss had only made things worse. And knowing that he wasn't the only one with an aching boner made his stomach twist into a tight knot.

“No, I think I’d rather go lie down.”

“Sure. I’m gonna change out of these. Can you manage?” Jacob kept his voice level, even though he was growing restless. He was genuinely afraid that he'd lose his self-control if he didn't leave the room.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

Jacob smiled and whisked around, almost hurrying out of the bathroom. He darted into his room and pulled off his shirt while kicking off his boots. As he undid his jeans, he simply hiked them down, too impatient to take them off. Leaning against the wall, he slid his hand down his chest, pausing at the part where the soft hairs of his stomach grew into harsher pubic hairs. He inched his hand downwards, under the waistband of his boxers, stopping to trace the carved letters above his dick.  _ Lust. How fitting, _ he thought.

With that thought, Jacob grabbed his dick and pulled it out, biting back a moan. He knew that even without the water drenching his clothes, his boxers would’ve been wet with precum, and the thought made his dick twitch. His grip was too tight, but the pain only amplified the pleasure. Holding his breath, he moved his hand along the length, brushing his fingers over the tip, and it didn’t take long for his dick to be slick with precum.

It was hard for Jacob to keep quiet, but somehow he managed, even though he was usually on the louder side. But he didn’t wish for Hyrum to hear him. After all, he wasn’t ready to go any further than kissing, no matter how much he wanted to. He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving his hand to rest on his nape as he rutted against his hand. He was panting, biting back whines as the pleasure rippled down his back. It took all of his willpower not to moan out loud as he picked up the pace, moving his hand in near frantic motion.

To Jacob’s embarrassment, he couldn’t get Hyrum out of his mind. The kiss, the feeling of his soft skin against his palms, his warm body pressing against his. The pleasure spiked, as Jacob’s mind strayed to the soft curve of his ass, and he could only wish that he would’ve lingered just a second longer. It was a vile, disgusting thought. And it pushed him over the edge.

Jacob bucked harshly against his hand and whimpered quietly. Just barely he managed to cup his hand over the tip, so he would be able to collect every last drop. He gasped for breath, as the feverishly hot cum splattered on his hand. Swiftly he brought his free hand to his dick, wrapping his fingers tightly around it. His back arched painfully and his hips jerked again and again, as his body, not knowing it was only his hand, tried to shove as deep as possible inside an imaginary partner.

It was embarrassing how quickly he came. But maybe it was better that way since he really didn’t have long, even if he’d wanted to take his sweet time like he usually did. It was shameful to think about Hyrum, but he was pretty much all he thought about each time he jerked off. The Whitetail just invaded his fantasies with his lean body and his perfect ass.

Forcing his breathing steady, Jacob grabbed his shirt from the floor and wiped his hand to it, resisting the urge to lick his fingers clean. Haphazardly he wiped his dick, gasping as the harsh fabric rubbed against the softening flesh. Quickly he got out of his damp clothes and threw them in the hamper in the corner of the room. He pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt, deciding that underwear was overrated anyway.

Hyrum had already dressed, and he was leaning against the wall with an exhausted smile on his face. The t-shirt hung over his body, making him look smaller than he really was. It was a pitiful sight.

“Hey,” he said quietly. He had braided his hair, and the water trickling from it soaked into his shirt. Somehow, he didn’t seem to mind.

Jacob smiled at him, trying to look like he hadn’t just jerked off a minute ago. His cheeks were flushed, but he didn’t know it. “Hey. Need help?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Hyrum said, noting the mess that was Jacob’s hair as he wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him upright.

“Do you wanna go to your room, or…”

“Yours, if you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all,” Jacob said and started to lead Hyrum to his room. He didn't say anything, because he had to actively push the memory of the kiss away, so he wouldn't get hard again. It wasn’t like his hand was nearly enough to keep him content.

“Could you bring some cold water?” Hyrum asked as the redhead helped him on the bed. He sat on the edge, hunched over, rubbing his arms as he was beginning to shiver again.

“Sure.”

It took Jacob probably less than a minute to get the water, but when he came back, Hyrum was already curled under the covers. Jacob chuckled and handed the glass to him. There was a light on in the hallway, so he reached for the light switch and flicked the lights off. He didn’t feel comfortable sleeping in total darkness, and even the thought alone made him nervous. Luckily, they both wanted to keep the hallway light on during nights, so there was enough light in their bedrooms to see properly.

“Thanks,” the Whitetail muttered and emptied the glass. He winced as a tremble ran through his body.

“Are you cold?”

“Yeah.”

Jacob took the glass and set it on top of the dresser. “Come on, scoot,” he said and moved the covers so he could slip under them. Hyrum was instantly shuffling closer, snuggling against his side. He was shivering so violently, that Jacob turned to his side and draped an arm over him.

“Could you spoon me?”

“Sure.” Hyrum flailed awkwardly, as he turned around. It was difficult because he was pinned between the wall and Jacob, but he succeeded. He yelped as the redhead pulled him close by his hip. “Tell me if you need more clothes or something.”

“I will. But, Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything. For helping me, and that kiss…”

Jacob’s breathing hitched, but he forced himself to stay calm, as he answered, “Of course.”

“It’s not of course,” Hyrum muttered. He was still shivering. “Those are huge things.”

“Are you sure you don’t need more clothes?”

“Yeah. It’ll pass. Besides, you’re warm.”

“Good.”

“Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I sleep here later? I mean… If I have nightmares.”

Jacob was quiet for a moment, so he wouldn’t come across as enthusiastic. Which he was. He said, as calmly as he could, “Sure. Whenever you feel like it.”

***

Something woke Jacob up. He wasn’t sure what it was, but as he fumbled around with his hand, his eyes still closed, he realized he was alone. With that realization, his eyes flew open and he sat up, balling the sheets into his fist. Fear squeezed his throat, as he was sure Hyrum had left to get high again. He recoiled instantly, wincing at his own weakness.

A quiet strum of a guitar startled him. For a moment there was total silence. But then another strum and a painfully beautiful, slow melody filled the bunker. Jacob listened to it, afraid to move. Soon after it was followed by Hyrum’s singing. It was the familiar soft tenor, which Jacob had grown to love.

_ “Drink up, baby, stay up all night. With the things you could do, you won't but you might. The potential you'll be, that you'll never see. The promises you'll only make…” _ Hyrum’s voice was faltering, but he managed to keep it steady. But there was a subtle shiver to his voice, which made him sound like he was crying. He was able to keep his voice somewhat steady through the first verse and the chorus.

_ “Drink up, baby, look at the stars. I'll kiss you again, between the bars. Where I'm seeing you there, with your hands in the air. Waiting to finally be caught…” _ Halfway through the second verse, his voice broke, leaving behind only the quiet strumming and his sharp sobs.

Jacob got to his feet and headed for the kitchen. He found Hyrum sitting cross-legged on the couch, with tears streaming down his cheeks. It felt like there was nothing he could do, so he leaned his shoulder against the door frame and waited. He wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to go any closer.

Hyrum kept playing the same song on repeat, but it grew weaker with every minute that passed. He closed his eyes, enjoying the guitar vibrating against his chest. He knew the song by heart, but he couldn’t sing. His voice was lodged in his throat, broken down by grief. When he finally stopped and rested his fingers over the steel strings, he opened his eyes and lifted his head. His brow was furrowed and his face wet.

Jacob opened his mouth to say something, but Hyrum shook his head. He drew a deep breath and his gaze fell. He tapped the wooden body of his guitar, leaving smudgy fingerprints against the black paint. There wasn’t a rhythm to it, it was just mindless tapping. But then he slammed his hand against the strings, trying to stifle his sobbing.

Hyrum flinched as Jacob was suddenly in front of him, pulling the guitar from his grip. “Kid? What’s going on?” he asked as he knelt.

“It was the last song I sang to him,” Hyrum replied quietly. He stumbled over his words, his voice shaking. “We used to listen to Elliott Smith all the time. Keith introduced me to his music and… Well, that song became ours.”

“I get it. You miss him. But I don’t think he’d want you to sit here alone, crying,” Jacob said softly as he cupped the Whitetail’s face. “Would he?”

Hyrum chuckled. “No.” He sniffled, before saying, “He was a good guy, Jake. Not perfect, but he was  _ good. _ And I loved him. More than anything else and—” He choked and squeezed his eyes shut. “I miss him. I just hope it wouldn’t hurt so much.”

“The pain will cease, and it will get easier. The pain never goes away, but… You learn to live with it. You can’t let it eat you alive, though.”

“Who’d you lose?” Hyrum asked and opened his eyes. He craned his neck and pressed his forehead against Jacob’s, looking for comfort.

“That’s a story for another time.”

“So, you’ve lost someone?”

“Yes.”

Hyrum closed his eyes and sighed. Grief was a lump in his throat that he couldn’t get rid of, no matter how much he swallowed. And Jacob noticed it.

Maybe it was because the man looked downright broken, or maybe it was because of all the stress of worrying about him. But whatever the reason was, Jacob started quietly, “Don’t be afraid, for He is with you. Don’t tremble with fear, for He will make you strong. When your bed is empty and you wake up with unaccustomed silence, He is near. He will give your weary heart a rest, He will lift the weight of the unspoken words from your shoulders. And I promise you, He will lead you out of the darkness and wipe the tears from your eyes. And know that the pain is not everlasting, for you will meet again.”

It wasn’t verbatim, and Jacob knew it. But he’d heard Joseph recite the prayer for grieving members of his flock for years, so he remembered most of it. Sure, it wasn’t as fancy as Joseph’s, but the grateful look in Hyrum’s eyes as he opened them, told him that it was enough.

Jacob didn’t wish to be like his brother, but seeing as Joseph wasn’t around, his roughness started to melt away. He didn’t realize it, but Joseph had changed him — for the better, yes, but also for the worst. Somehow, along the line, he’d managed to keep Jacob away from his humanity. Joseph was a stake driven through his brother, separating Jacob Seed and his Herald into two different people.

With no judgment, no responsibilities, no duties, Jacob allowed himself to care. And he was terrified because of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Finally some smut. And another kiss. I swear these idiots. Well a slow burn is a fucking slow burn so there's that.
> 
> Now I've been dropping hints about something but idk if you're picking up on them. Anyways, thanks for reading! I love y'all and drop a Kudos or write a comment if you have the time. I'm always over the moon when I receive comments.
> 
> Thanks again babes <3


	7. We will be together in Eden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it Friday again? DAAAMN  
ENJOY PEOPLE. This is a special chapter again.

“Good morning, Deputy,” Joseph said politely, tying his hair into a bun. Rook just groaned, leaning his head against his hands. It had grown clear to the preacher, that however good a deputy he was, he was in no way a morning person. He managed to get up pretty easily, but he was totally useless for an hour or so, snapping over the smallest of things. How he’d managed to cause so much damage to the Project was beyond Joseph.

The kitchen was lit only by the blue light coming from the fish tank, but it was all Joseph needed. He sat down opposite of Rook, examining his weary expression with a slight frown. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink all night.

“Is everything alright?” Joseph asked, concerned as always.

“As good as it can be,” Rook replied, and ran his fingers through his black, overgrown hair. He hadn’t shaved for a while, which, in Joseph’s opinion, looked good. He stifled a smile and cleared his throat.

“I know we’ve had our differences—” he started, his tone polite like always.

“Oh, we’re calling them differences nowadays, huh?”

The preacher breathed out, too slightly to be called a sigh, and leaned back in his chair. Sure, the beginning had been rough, but as he’d said before, Rook was the only family he had left. He still mourned for his brothers and his sister, but the grief had eased a notch during the two months they’d spent holed up in the bunker. It wasn’t like Joseph was in any place to question God’s will, and he knew that whatever trials God had in store for them, they would survive.

“I was saying that the situation is completely different than it was before the Collapse. There probably is no Hope County. There are no fights to be fought. I hope you will understand that soon enough.” Rook lifted his gaze, and his eyes were full of something that Joseph interpreted as contempt. He sighed and continued, “Deputy, I know supplies are scarce, and that it annoys you that I have been rationing them heavily, but—”

“That’s not what annoys me.”

“Oh. I see. What is it then?”

“You just assumed that you’re the leader. You never ask for my opinion about anything.”

“Well, Deputy, I am the Father, and—”

“For the last time I am not your child,” Rook snapped, rolling his eyes. “Look, I don’t wanna have this conversation with you again. It just winds me up.”

“Whether you want it, or not, you are my family,” Joseph said calmly. “It is God’s plan, and I am the last person to start arguing with Him.”

“You’re claiming, yet again, to know God’s plan? Do you think God wanted you to kill your own kid? Sacrifice your brothers? You haven’t heard the Voice in years, right? Maybe you just, I don’t know, got better,” Rook said, his tone full of venom. He leered at the preacher, tapping his foot in annoyance. And it made Joseph realize that maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to start talking to the man so early in the morning.

“Got better?” he asked slowly, holding his grief at a distance, so it wouldn’t show.

“Well, clearly, you are one crazy preacher. Maybe whatever mental illness you had, isn’t there anymore.” Joseph was taken aback by his words. Wasn’t the Collapse enough proof for him? He decided to ignore the Deputy’s accusations of him being crazy. He’d heard it so many times, but it still felt bad hearing it from him.

“You’re wrong. About the Voice I mean.”

“What?” Rook asked. “What do you mean I’m wrong?” His dark-brown eyes gleamed in the dim light and his brow furrowed.

“I heard the Voice last night.”

Joseph watched as the emotions flickered on Rook’s face, mostly fear and curiosity. Eventually, the lines on his brow softened and he leaned back, drumming the table with his fingers. His breathing was shallow, and his voice shook when he said, “So… What did it have to say? Or show? Or whatever.”

“God has a plan for us,” Joseph replied, his voice shaking ever so slightly. Then he hummed deeply and closed his eyes briefly, before continuing, “I was right when I said you are the only family I have left.” Rook reached across the table and took his hand, noticing how his skin was dry and worn by years of hardship, as he brushed his thumb against his knuckles.

“Yeah? Well, what did you see?”

“I saw that we will be together in Eden. And that we will thrive.” Rook stared at him, his lips parted and his breathing hitching. Joseph had a fire in his eyes, and it overwhelmed him — it was the same determination and certitude he’d had back in his church, now it just wasn’t shrouded by his glasses.

“Are you sure?” the Deputy asked quietly, his eyes wide.

“I am, even though my visions can sometimes be flimsy like they were with John. I saw him die young as he did, but I also saw him grow old.”

“So… The Voice is a… Well, a voice, but you also see visions?”

“Yes, you are quite right. Seeing visions is far more pleasant because the Voice itself is loud and it feels like—”

“A boom of thunder,” Rook finished his sentence. He smiled. “I remember the song.”

“I’m glad that you do.”

“Me too. I was wondering… what about Jacob then? Did you see him grow old?” Rook asked, his stomach churning as he thought what the soldier had put him through. Of all the Seeds, Joseph was the best option to get stuck in a bunker with. Rook was that sure Jacob would’ve eaten him, John would’ve tortured him and Faith would’ve doused him with Bliss. At least Joseph had been kind and merciful.

“I did. But his plan was clear from the beginning. Even when we were but children, I knew his purpose. He would become my sacrifice, and he did.” Joseph’s voice was steady and firm, leaving no room for arguments. Sacrifice, yes, but before the Collapse, he hadn’t been sure about the details. There had always been a small glimmer of hope that Jacob, as well as John, would survive.

“He… He said he’d give his life for you, and that he’d do it gladly.” It had the opposite effect that Rook was waiting for — Joseph began to smile. Shockingly, he seemed content, and it made no sense. Why would someone be content over the death of their own brother?

“Jacob was…” Joseph sighed. “He was tormented. I hoped that he would find solace after the Collapse when there would be no more fighting, no more wars.” His gaze fell for a brief moment before he fixed it on Rook’s again.

“You were proud of him, right? I mean… I saw it. That night, when you told me about your wife. And he was so pleased, you should’ve seen his face when you left. I’d never seen him so… happy. It seemed unhinged at the time, but now that I look at it… I see it differently.” Rook wondered what Jacob’s sin was, but he didn’t know if it was something he was allowed to know. He still feared and hated the soldier with all his heart, even though he was gone.

“Yes,” Joseph said quietly. Rook noted how his hand was strong and warm like it was made for shepherding a flock and guiding people into the path of righteousness. “I prayed every day that God would find kindness in His heart and that He would spare my brothers. They weren’t bad people, Rook. They were damaged. And even though I knew what was going to happen, I still foolishly hoped that my brothers would join me in Eden. I had everything planned for them.”

“What plans did you have?” Rook asked quietly.

“I wanted to unite everyone,” Joseph said with a sorrowful expression. “Jacob was meant to be the protector of our new world, to train all survivors, no matter their former affiliation. John… Well, he was supposed to lead, to teach and to organize everything together with Jacob. Faith’s purpose was to guide people, and give them solace.” There was no harm in telling his plans. After all, they were now useless. “The fighting, the killing… All of it was meant to end with the Collapse. I truly believe that the world has been cleansed and that all sinners have been purified.”

“That’s… A lot to take in,” Rook said slowly. “I mean… You just assumed that everyone would just… Be okay with what you did?”

“No. But I am hoping that with time people will understand why I did what I did. And that… They might forgive. Or at least let me help them.” At that moment Rook could see what kind of a man Joseph had been before Eden’s Gate. The world had twisted him, much like his brothers, and Rook felt angry because it felt unfair that God would let something so bad happen to people.

“I still don’t get why you had to do all that shit.”

“That is unfortunate,” Joseph admitted.

“You’ll have to redeem yourself. And your brothers and Faith.”

“I know.”

“Do you wanna tell me what else the Voice told you?” Rook smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It pained him to know that had Joseph been kinder, he could have been able to save so many more people. But then again, if he’d been a kind, law-abiding citizen, there wouldn’t have been a warrant, and Rook would’ve never met him. It scared him that he couldn’t say which scenario he preferred.

“Of course. Our life will be harsh and difficult in the beginning.” He drew a shuddering breath. “We will face dangers, but it will all be rewarded. I saw you standing beside me in Eden, and we looked upon our land and we knew that all the hard work was worth it.”

Rook fixated on the small words.  _ Our land. _ He repeated them in his head, and his heart felt like bursting. It was a weird choice of words, but of course, it couldn’t have been an accident because it was Joseph. Then again, Rook didn’t have the courage to ask what he’d meant by them, even though he wanted to.

“What’s Eden like?”

“I do not know much. Most things I see are either flashes or people. Like I said, my visions are not precise,” Joseph said, not telling the whole truth. Every vision concerning Rook bad been as clear as a summer day, and Joseph knew all of them to be true. Including the one where they had shared a kiss as a bonfire threw long shadows on the ground and the flames warmed their cold hands. It had scared him, mostly because it was  _ Rook. _ Their fates seemed to be intertwined so tightly together that it was difficult to understand everything.

“Who else did you see? Did you see Pastor Jerome? Nick? Mary May?” Rook’s voice rose and he leaned over the table. “Hurk? Sharky?” He’d lost count of how many times he’d cried because of his friends, all of whom he considered family.

“Rook… I will not give you false hope.”

“So you did see them?”

“That is not what I said. I will not indulge you with the details before I’m sure.” Even though he didn’t want to, his voice slipped into the familiar sternness of the Father. Rook was demanding information from him that he simply wasn’t willing to share. There was no point in getting his hopes up and then see him get hurt later on.

Rook groaned. “Why me? Why am I, a good-for-nothing Deputy, born and raised Montanan, part of God’s grand plan?” It made no fucking sense to him, and it made him anxious and nervous. Sure, he was raised as Orthodox, but so far he’d seen very little proof of God’s existence. Well, the only proof was the man sitting opposite him, whose eyes had a fire inside of them.

Joseph sighed and said, “You are not good-for-nothing.”

“Yes, I am. Look at what I did! I destroyed everything, only to learn that for once, I should’ve listened to the doomsday preacher. I took everything from you.” Rook was shaking, drawing short, sharp breaths. His guilt seemed to worsen the more time went by, and Joseph didn’t know what he could do to help him.

“I forgive you,” he said softly, squeezing Rook’s hand. A mistake.

“No!” he yelled and jumped up, painfully yanking his hand away. “No, you won’t!”

“I already forgave you. You cannot take that away from me.”

“Just watch me,” he replied and stormed off. Joseph’s gaze fell and he saw a small nick on his palm, where Rook had accidentally scratched him. He fixated on the single drop of blood that trickled out, and he knew it would all be worth it.

With a sigh, Joseph took his radio from the edge of the table and switched it on for no particular reason. It brought him comfort, sure, but it wasn’t like he was waiting for someone to contact him. There was no one left. But on the off chance that someone would contact, he sometimes switched the radio on and proceeded to stare at it for hours on end.

***

Rook missed everyone, but most of all, he missed Joey and Staci. He’d known them both for years, and they had been a tight-knit trio of mischievous bastards like Earl used to call them. The thought made him smile, but it also made his eyes prickle. He wasn’t sure if they were alive, and if so, where they were. The only thing he could do was to stay in Dutch’s bunker, haunted by the memories of all the good people he’d known.

As mad as he was with Joseph, he had been right all along. He’d only been protecting his family, very much like Rook had done. And he regretted ever arresting the preacher. He should’ve just walked away. Deep down he knew he wasn’t responsible — the orders had come from higher, so what else could he do than to follow them? Even Jacob had noticed how good of a soldier he was, always following orders. Maybe it was his problem, after all. Not standing up for what was right, and instead just following every command like a robot.

Rook rolled to his stomach, cringing as the bed creaked under him. He didn’t deserve Joseph’s forgiveness. What he did could never be undone, and it could never be forgiven. And knowing how much Joseph loved his brothers only amplified his guilt.

He regretted that he’d been nosy — he’d listened to the message Joseph had left John at their ranch. Hearing the concern and love in his voice had twisted his insides. Even though he believed Joseph’s visions to be true, he couldn’t accept them, because guilt had shackled him in place.

And after everything… That man-bunned little twerp had forgiven him. Rook turned his head so he could stare at the doorway, half-heartedly hoping Joseph would magically appear from it because at that moment he needed his calming presence. And to his surprise, Joseph did. He stepped inside from the dark hallway, his hair down and an uneasy expression aimed at him.

“Can I come in?” he asked politely. Always polite and composed. Even when Rook had first met him, he’d been completely in control — of himself, his brothers, his sister, his flock. He’d been in control of every aspect of everyone’s lives, something that none of them had realized back then. Hope County was Joseph’s domain, and there was nothing anyone could have done to change that.

“Yeah, sure. What is it?” Rook asked and pushed himself up to his knees. As Joseph walked inside, he fidgeted with his rosary, his eyes darting back and forth. Rook shifted his weight so he could sit down on the edge of his bed, one leg hanging over it. He stared at the preacher, his eyes fixated on his nervously twitching fingers.

“I…” Joseph started but fell silent as his brow furrowed. Rook patted the bed, and he complied. He sat down carefully, finally leaving the rosary alone as he turned to face Rook. “You’ll have to forgive me my disheveled state.”

“No, it’s… Fine. You look completely normal.”

Joseph hummed, knowing very well that looking normal was the problem. It was like his authority had been shredded when he didn’t have his preacher clothes. “I seem to have misplaced my hairband. But I am not here for that. I needed to talk with you. I shouldn’t have said, that I forgive you. It wasn’t right springing it on you like that. I hope you can forgive me.”

Rook sighed. He wasn’t ready to explain why he had reacted the way he had. He knew he didn’t want forgiveness, but he didn’t want to be hated either. Deep inside he hoped he could go back to the night they’d met and do everything differently. Because if he could, he wouldn’t arrest Joseph. Instead, he would tell Marshal to fuck off, and take Joseph’s hands and join him. The thought alone made him shudder out of shame.

“Deputy…” The memory of the vision was suddenly clear in Joseph’s mind, and he knew it to be true. The love, the kisses, the lazy mornings, the touches, the shared meals. He struggled to catch his breath. The man sitting beside him was his future, and as scary as it was, Joseph was ready. That’s why he reached his hand and cupped Rook’s shoulder, brushing his fingers against the soft fabric of his shirt. He could feel tears filling his eyes.

Rook turned to look at him and tilted his head, guilt and worry written across his face. Always with the guilt. No matter how many times Joseph had explained that wallowing in self-pity and guilt wouldn’t do any good, he refused to listen.

“Forgive me for what I am about to do,” Joseph said, not realizing that it sounded like a veiled threat. Rook tensed, as he waited for a blade or a bullet. But it was neither of them. Joseph lifted his leg on the bed, awkwardly turning his body towards him. He leaned closer and pressed their foreheads together. Encouraged by Rook’s muscles relaxing under his hand, and his soft exhale, Joseph kissed him.

For a fraction of a second, he feared the worst, but then Rook gasped into his mouth and reciprocated. It was an uncoordinated, messy and wet kiss, which wasn’t arousing for either of them, but merely a sign of some sort of weird mutual affection.

Joseph was flushed as he pulled back. “I have seen—”

“More than you told me before,” Rook said quietly. His hands were on his lap, and he wanted to touch the preacher, but he didn’t know if he was allowed to. The kiss had shaken him to his core, because he’d never been kissed like that; softly, lovingly and wholeheartedly. If that’s how it felt to be loved by the Father, he would never let go of him.

“Yes.”

“What did you see?” Rook asked, staring straight into Joseph’s eyes, and for the first time noting how beautiful they were. As a hopeless romantic, he thought that they were like two precision cut kyanites, glimmering in the dim lighting.

“If it is okay with you, I will explain later.”

“Of course it is.”

Joseph smiled and cupped Rook’s face, rubbing his thumbs against his cheeks, his short beard tickling his palms. He kissed Rook again, shyly and awkwardly, and he flinched as he felt the man’s hands on his waist.

It was one thing Joseph hadn’t seen — the moment that would spark the love that would carry them through hardship, death, and destruction. At that moment he knew it was meant to be — that despite their differences, despite the past they shared, they belonged together. And he would do anything to keep Rook from harm. God’s plan, was God’s plan. Whether Joseph understood it or not. So, like always, he went with the flow, because he knew that everything happened for a reason.

Rook managed to surprise the preacher by pushing him on his back, making him gasp softly. It had been over two months without any physical contact, except for Joseph’s scarce hand-holding and his brief touches on his shoulder, or back. As Rook propped himself up with his arms, Joseph instinctively spread his legs to accommodate him. He pulled Rook closer by his shirt to kiss him again, and he was surprised by how heavy he was. Sure, he was on the bulkier side, but Joseph hadn’t realized just how much he weighed. But the weight wasn’t scary; in a weird way, it was comforting.

Panic shot up Joseph’s back as a small whine fell from his lips, and he froze. He was taken aback by his own voice, as he was having difficulties in understanding that he was able to make such a depraved noise.

“Are you alright?” Rook asked as he parted from the kiss, worried that he’d done something wrong, even though he’d tried to be careful. He craned his neck and pressed his forehead against Joseph’s to soothe him.

“Yes. I just… Yes.”

“What happened?”

Joseph blinked rapidly and swallowed. “I was just surprised.” Scared would’ve been closer to the truth, but he wasn’t about to say it out loud.

“It’s fine,” Rook said with a smile and started to back away. The preacher was having none of it — he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into an awkward and painfully tight hug, hanging onto him like he was drowning.

Had Rook been just a member of the congregation, Joseph would’ve said that he loved him. But because it was Rook, he bit back the words, unsure of what he meant by them. Did he love him? Yes. But what kind of love was it? Joseph didn’t know. So he chose to stay quiet, even though his heart was about to burst out of his chest.

“Did you see this in your vision?” Rook murmured into his ear and teasingly slid his hand against Joseph’s thigh. He’d always been a bit of a flirt, and he wanted to try his luck. The only answer he got was a breathy whimper, so he pulled back from the hug. Joseph’s arms flopped against the bed and his eyes were wide and damp. Again Rook tried to back down, but this time Joseph let out a desperate, “No!” as he wrapped his fingers around his forearms.

“You don’t want me to go?” the Deputy asked, his voice strained. He was annoyed by the neediness and worried about the unspoken words hanging between them.

“No.”

“Joseph, what do you want? Should I hold you?” The preacher shook his head. His chest heaved. “Kiss you?” He shook his head. Then nodded curtly. “Use your words, Joseph.”

“I,” he started. “would prefer… Not to use them.” Every word was a struggle, and he looked extremely uncomfortable.

Rook huffed as he shook him off and shuffled backward, leaning against the headboard. The whole situation was confusing, and he craved for clarity. The frustrating thing was that Joseph wasn’t giving him any. Rook yelped as the preacher suddenly sat up and lunged towards him. He ended up straddling him and interlocking his fingers behind his neck, looking more confused than ever before.

“What do you want?”

“I don’t…” He breathed in. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’m not leaving.” Rook wanted to point out that he  _ couldn’t _ leave, but he knew what Joseph meant and it was probably not the best time to start cracking jokes. He’d tried it before, and it had left them both confused and embarrassed.

“Would it be okay with you if I kissed you again?” Joseph asked. His voice was quiet and breathless, and Rook gritted his teeth. Now he was asking for permission? Inexperience and uncertainty aside, the man straddling him was a Bible-waving fundamentalist, so Rook shouldn’t kiss him again. He was Joseph fucking Seed, so he definitely shouldn’t kiss him again. That argument didn’t really stick with him, though, because the mere thought of tarnishing his holiness aroused him.

“You can do whatever you want,” Rook finally replied, realizing that he’d probably been quiet for way too long.

Joseph’s breathing hitched, but he leaned closer. “That is rather unseemly,” he muttered.

“Perhaps, but I mean it,” Rook managed to say before the preacher kissed him.

Joseph’s lips were warm and soft, but he wasn’t an especially good kisser. He wasn’t bad, he was just… Lukewarm. It didn’t bother Rook, quite the contrary; he was turned on by it. Maybe it was the fact that Joseph was so shy and careful, or maybe it was just because he hadn’t had sex in a really long time, but in the end, the reason didn’t matter. The truth was that Joseph Seed turned him on. Rook wanted to laugh. It was surreal, to say the least. And Earl would lose his shit if he’d know.

He wrapped his arms around Joseph so he could squeeze their bodies together. He didn’t dare to try and slip his tongue inside his mouth, because he would’ve most likely freaked out. But he wanted the man as close as possible because his weight against his hardening dick made his heart hum loudly in his ears. And he had missed the feeling of having someone close.

Joseph squirmed and broke the kiss, blinking furiously. “Rook!” He sounded like he was scolding him.

“What? What did I do wrong?”

“You… Your…”

“Yes?”

The silence stretched. Rook stared at Joseph, who sighed and pressed their foreheads together. It didn’t make things any clearer. What was he so worked up about? Rook frowned, but then his eyebrows shot up, as he realized what the problem was.

“Does my dick bother you?” he asked, trying hard not to laugh.

“I,” Joseph stammered. “Why would you say somethin’ like that?” His thick accent bled into his voice and it made Rook grin. He jerked his hips upward, enjoying the surprised whine that escaped from Joseph.

“So, it is that then,” he said softly and lifted the preacher’s shirt so he could press his hands against his warm back.

“It does  _ not _ bother me. I am nervous, not bothered.” It was cute how defensive he sounded. Rook chuckled. Joseph was precious, and he was warm, soft and kind. Yet another glimpse of the man he used to be because the Father was none of those things. Rook pushed the thought quickly aside, not wanting to dampen his own mood.

“So, I take it you’ve never been with a man?”

“No!” Joseph exclaimed and flinched backward. “Ah, that came out too harshly.”

“It sure did,” Rook said, caressing the man’s back. He wasn’t mad since it was understandable. “What about your rules?”

“Rules?” the preacher asked, his eyes fixed on a scar under the Deputy’s eye, splitting the otherwise flawless olive-colored skin.

“No fornicating, for example.”

“I,” Joseph paused. “I do not know.”

“I’m not in a hurry.”

“But you’re already…” He drew a shuddering breath and squeezed his eyes shut. “Hard.”

“And? Look, it bothers me to see you this uncomfortable. Why don’t you—”

Joseph’s eyes flew open and he pressed his mouth against Rook’s just to shut him up. It was still uncoordinated and sloppy, especially when he slipped his tongue inside Rook’s mouth, making it very clear that he had no fucking clue what to do next. He whined and broke the kiss. Teardrops glistened on his eyelashes.

“What did you see, Joseph?” Rook asked quietly, petting his back. “What made you kiss me?”

“Oh. I…” He cleared his throat. “I saw us together in Eden.”

“Yeah, you told me that.”

“No. I mean together.”

The emphasis made Rook blink in confusion. “As a… couple?” Joseph nodded. “What… Are you sure?”

“Yes. I am sure. I saw it. You were there, by my side, as my lover, my partner, my  _ everything. _ Together we will create a paradise. You took everything from me. And by doing that you became my everything. We share the same fate. Maybe it was decided before I even heard the Voice for the first time. Or, maybe it was decided before we were born. I do not know, but what I do know, is this,” Joseph paused to press his palm over Rook’s heart. “your heart is aligned with mine, whether we want it or not. This is the grand plan. I know it now.”

“Joseph…” Rook muttered, his eyes filling with tears. For all his life he’d been searching for something. He had always felt that there was something missing, like half of his soul was gone. And now it felt like he’d found it. As impossible as it seemed, Rook could see the light. It had been inside Joseph the whole time. It was an overwhelming feeling of religious fervor that filled him as the seconds passed.

He broke the eye contact only to press his mouth against Joseph’s, pulling him as close as possible, gliding his hands along his back. His heart started to hammer against his ribs as if it was trying to break them. And it hurt, but it was the good kind of hurt. Rook wanted to cry and laugh and scream. Instead, he shoved his tongue inside Joseph’s mouth and brought his hand to his nape to prevent him from escaping. Joseph whined as Rook threaded his hand amidst his hair and tugged at it lightly. He was probably a bit too hungry, a bit too harsh as he nipped the preacher’s lips, but then again, he didn’t hear any complaints.

Taking a risk, Rook slipped his free hand between their bodies, sliding it slowly along Joseph’s thigh. He needed to know if he was hard, and it wasn’t like he could ask, or look. He wasn’t going to lean away from his soft lips. But he would lose his mind if he wouldn’t check.

Joseph whimpered as Rook finally got close enough to feel the familiar hardness and heat under the rough denim. As Joseph didn’t stop him, he brushed his hand against his dick, while keeping his mouth busy with his tongue. Rook smirked when the preacher keened into his mouth, as he rubbed his thumb forcefully against his dick. He traced the edges with his fingers, and Joseph's breathing started to grow labored. It was clear to Rook that he hadn’t lied about them being a couple later on — there was no way in hell Joseph would let him touch him like that otherwise.

It wasn’t that Rook wanted a fuck then and there, but it had been a long time since he’d held someone else’s dick in his hand. And he had no fucks to give about whose it was anymore. Joseph was a handsome man, there was no doubt about it. So, he swiftly undid the preacher's jeans, hoping that he wouldn’t say no. He was horny, he was lonely and he knew he wasn’t the only one feeling like it.

Rook was surprised when Joseph did nothing to stop him from slipping his hand under his boxers. It was impossible to stop himself from smiling as he wrapped his fingers around Joseph’s dick. The reaction he got was nothing that he’d expected — Joseph bucked against his hand and moaned.

Were it any other guy, Rook would’ve been harsher. But because it was Joseph, he carefully pulled out his dick, making sure that his movements were gentle and steady. He wasn’t taking any unnecessary risks. Rook wanted more of him, and it was hard not to rip his clothes off. The urge to glance downwards proved to be more than he could handle, so he pulled back and snapped his head down.

“What are you—” Joseph started. He was already out of breath, and he simply whimpered, as Rook tightened his grip.

“I wanted to see,” the man said, staring at what was probably the most beautiful dick he’d ever seen. Granted, he was probably biased, but it really was impossible to stop staring at it. He brushed his thumb against the soft, almost silky skin, before moving his hand up and down, in awe of the glistening drops of precum that trickled out. A choked moan fell from Joseph’s lips and his back arched when Rook pressed his thumb against the slit, rubbing small circles. Testing the preacher’s limits, he ran his nails from the base of his dick to the tip, not enough to hurt, but enough to cause him to whine at the uncomfortable sensation.

“Wait…” Joseph whined, squeezing Rook’s shoulders. “I…”

“What?” He didn’t even bother lifting his gaze. “Joseph?” Letting out an exasperated sigh, he glanced upwards and met Joseph’s glazed eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

“Can I keep going then?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to continue, until you come?”

Joseph nodded. Grinning wildly, Rook turned his attention back to the matter at hand. He wrapped his fingers around his dick and slid his hand downwards, causing Joseph to yelp as he suddenly cupped his balls.

“What—”

“You know how to say no, right?” Rook asked, breathing heavily. “Joseph?” No answer, but he squeezed Rook’s shoulders again. “I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll keep going until you tell me to stop.” He rubbed his thumb against his balls, massaging them softly, wishing that it was his tongue, not his finger. All the while Joseph was whimpering and panting, his eyes half-shut. It was hypnotizing watching his chest heave, and to feel his muscles shivering.

Rook moved his hand to wrap his fingers around his dick and immediately started moving his hand along the length, quicker than before. It was certainly not his best handjob, but he was guessing that the preacher didn’t care. He kept his hand on his nape, rubbing his fingertips against the feverishly hot and damp skin.

The pleasure was unlike anything Joseph had ever felt. It came as hot, rippling waves flowing down his back and along his thighs. And Rook's warm hand pumping up and down made a wet sound, which Joseph found embarrassing and arousing at the same time. He keened loudly as Rook suddenly picked up his pace, nearly panting himself, as his hand moved in a frantic motion. It made Joseph nervous when he was constantly feeling Rook’s dick pressing against his ass because he knew that someday he’d have to acknowledge it.

“I,” he started. He couldn’t get a word out of his mouth anymore, so just he gasped and gasped, with choked whines escaping from his throat.

“You’re coming?”

He managed to let out a whiny, “Yes”, before he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head against Rook’s shoulder. He was shaking and gasping for breath as his hips jerked. His senses were overloaded, and it was like something hooked his stomach and pulled it downwards — a feeling he’d already forgotten. To Rook’s delight the man let out a loud keen and he quickly snapped his head downwards, just in time to see the thick, pearl-white strings of cum spreading onto his shirt and his hand.

Rook kept jerking him off, his mouth watering at the sight. “Fuck, that’s—”

“Rook!” the preacher scolded, even though he was still in the middle of his orgasm. Rook paused as his hips pushed against his hand, his body squeezing out the last drops of cum. Joseph panted as he straightened his back, and he was mortified that he’d let someone jerk him off, but he also knew that it was something people did with their partners. And he couldn’t deny that it had felt good. But most importantly, it had felt right.

“I’m sorry,” Rook said, not sounding sorry at all. He kissed Joseph, nipping his lips gently. “But after seeing that, I have to come too. So, get off for a while. I gotta go handle myself.”

Joseph abided, his cheeks red, and climbed off. It meant that Rook had to let go of his dick. He sighed in defeat, giving it one last, soft squeeze. As he got to his feet, he pulled his stained shirt off, wondering how long it would take for Joseph to let him blow him. The thought made him chuckle, and he was surprised to feel the preacher grab his wrist. He turned around to look at him with a smirk on his face.

“What?”

Joseph’s eyes went up and down as he opened his mouth to say something.

But then a distant, static-riddled,  _ “Joseph?”  _ coming from afar made him flinch, and his lips parted in shock. He let out a weird noise which was half gasp, half whine.

_ “Joseph, you there?” _ It was John’s voice, Rook realized and he suddenly felt nauseous. How the fuck was the baptist still alive? Time seemed to stop, and neither of them moved a muscle. Rook’s heart thudded loudly in his ears, and the gushing of his own blood drowned out everything else.

Then Joseph snapped out of his stupor, and screamed, “John!” He jumped up, fumbling with his jeans and buttoning them as quickly as possible. He pushed Rook aside, nearly knocking him over, and ran to the kitchen. Feeling around in the dim room, he dropped something on the floor and knocked down a chair as he grabbed his radio from the kitchen table. He cursed as he couldn’t hit the button right away.

“John?  _ John! _ Is that you?”

_ “Oh thank God!” _ Joseph could hear as his little brother began to sob.  _ “Finally! Where the hell are you?” _

“You’re alive, you’re alive,” Joseph repeated over and over again until his voice broke and he started to cry, overwhelmed by emotions. A bright light suddenly filled the room, as Rook flicked the lights on, his face pale and his hands shaking. He snatched the radio from Joseph and brought it to his mouth, staring at the slobbering preacher with wide eyes.

“John? It’s me, Rook.”

_ “You bastard!” _ the baptist screamed.  _ “I’ll fuckin’ kill you!” _ His accent flared as he began to hurl curses. Most of his louder screams were torn into static and Rook held the radio at an arm’s length, his nose crinkled in annoyance.  _ “I’ll end you! I’ll rip your dick off and I’ll feed it to—” _

“John! Shut the hell up, would ya?” Rook yelled back. The radio fell silent. “Joseph is alright. He’s  _ fine. _ He’s just crying.” He let out a yelp as Joseph suddenly wrapped his arms around him, nuzzling his chest and gasping for breath.

_ “I need to hear it from him.” _

“Yeah, alright,” Rook said. He kept the button pressed down so John could hear what was happening. “Joseph? Come on, stop crying for a minute…” Rook murmured into his ear and pressed a kiss on his temple. He got attached to people way too quickly, especially if he had sex with them, and Joseph wasn’t an exception.  _ Goddamnit, _ Rook thought to himself, as he comforted the preacher. He was fucked.

_ “Well?” _

“Calm your tits!” the Deputy hissed. He turned his attention back to Joseph, who was wiping tears from his cheeks. Without saying a word, he shoved the radio against his chest, so he’d have to take it. And he did.

“John?” Joseph asked hoarsely.

_ “Joe, are you alright? Where are you? Did he hurt you? I swear to God, if he hurt you, I—” _

“John,” Joseph repeated, his voice still weak. But the sheer amount of authority bleeding into it made Rook take a step back. It was a scary echo of the Father.

_ “Yes, Joseph,” _ his brother replied meekly.

“I am fine. Rook has been more than kind to me.” Joseph smiled. “We are in Dutch’s bunker.”

_ “No fucking way. Shit! I passed by like a month ago, thinking you wouldn’t be there!” _

“Wait, wait. John, explain what you mean by that.” Joseph grabbed Rook’s hand as he leaned his head against his chest, thankful that he wasn’t alone.

But Rook’s mind was a mess — he was horny, but also scared and intimidated. The cocktail was weird as fuck, but he just had to roll with it. John was alive, so that was one less thing to worry about. One less thing to be sorry for. In a way, he was glad that the crazy fucker was alive.

_ “Look, I’m coming there. It’ll take me two hours. But I’m coming, okay? But please do not switch off your radio.” _

“I won’t. I promise.”

_ “I love you, Joseph. I love you so, so much. And I’ve missed you. I love you, I love you—” _

“John.”

_ “Yes, yes, you’re right.” _

Rook’s lips parted in awe. He was baffled by how Joseph could convey so much by just saying his brother’s name. He was equally baffled by John’s words. Was it really safe to go outside? They’d been locked in there for a month, even though they could’ve gone outside? Rook was confused. He wanted to run out of the bunker and roll around in the grass but decided against it. It was smarter to wait for John. Even though he was scared shitless because of it.

Joseph let go and reached his hand to lay it on Rook’s cheek. He lowered the radio and pressed a quick kiss on his lips, surprising them both. “We will have to talk later,” he said softly.

“I know,” Rook replied and smiled. “Of course John comes first.”

The look on Joseph’s face made his heart ache; his eyes dampened and his lips curled into a loving smile. “Thank you.”

_ “Talk about what?” _ John’s whiny voice demanded.

Joseph flicked his eyes to his radio. He lifted his thumb from the button and winced. “I had it pressed down.”

Rook burst into laughter, and still laughing, he took Joseph’s face into his hands and kissed him. He didn’t understand what was happening, but it didn’t matter because he was already falling hard for the preacher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week we will return to Wolf's Den. <3  
I hope you enjoyed, and if you can, drop a Kudos or a comment.  
And as always, thank you so much for reading. xoxo <3
> 
> My Tumblr is open, if you wanna come and say hi (wolfnotadevil)


	8. He's a fucking Herald

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, we're back at the Wolf's Den with our bois.  
Please enjoy!

June came and went, leaving both Jacob and Hyrum craving for sunlight. It was the height of summer, and Hyrum was annoyed that he couldn’t go outside — there was nothing else he’d rather do than go skinny-dipping in the middle of the night after smoking a spliff or two. And because he couldn’t do that, he’d been sneaking the occasional cigarette when Jacob was sleeping, going out of his way to avoid getting caught.

Even though Hyrum had been annoyed at the beginning, he’d grown to appreciate Jacob’s near-constant worrying and pestering. He made sure Hyrum emptied his plate, and there was no way to escape his stern orders and his demanding stare. As the days passed, Hyrum started to feel like himself again when the tiredness and aching left his body. Both of them knew that relapse was a possibility, but Jacob had hidden the metallic box along with its contents. Little did he know, that Hyrum knew exactly where it was. Because addicts always know.

To keep his restlessness at bay, Hyrum climbed into Jacob’s bed most nights, draping an arm over his stomach, balling his shirt into his fist. He’d sleep soundly through the night, and so would Jacob. Neither of them saw nightmares, and it was the first time that Jacob wasn’t nervous sharing his bed with someone. He wasn’t afraid that he would hurt Hyrum; for some reason, he had faith that nothing would happen, that he wouldn’t lash out because of a nightmare, or a flashback. Weird enough, he felt at peace.

And like usual, their days were filled with reading, eating and Jacob’s archery lessons, during which Hyrum tried hard to turn into an amoeba so he wouldn’t have to shoot a single arrow. So far he’d been unsuccessful. He was getting better, but the biggest obstacle was his complete disinterest in the subject.

For Hyrum it was a rare moment of total silence — Jacob was still sleeping, and he’d been up all night reading. There was nothing better in the world than a peaceful quietness and a good book. He plopped on the couch with his book and a mug of coffee, hissing as he nearly spilled it. He balanced the mug on his thigh, while he flipped the book open and settled into a better position. The coffee was hot, and it burned his tongue, but he just ignored the burning and sipped at it, enjoying the slightly bitter taste.

At times he was bored out of his mind. There was a limited number of things he could do while holed up in Wolf’s Den, and unfortunately, Jacob wasn’t warming up to his propositions. But Hyrum was still having fun seeing him roll his eyes and flash an abashed grin whenever he suggested that they could always have sex to pass the time, teasingly running his fingers across his scarred skin. Or, if he was feeling bold, he would trail his hand along Jacob’s thigh.

Hyrum was immersed in his book, his coffee cold and forgotten on the floor, when Jacob walked into the kitchen, his hand amidst his hair. He still hadn’t gotten used to the fact that it was longer than it had been in years. For a while he stood still, watching as Hyrum’s green eyes darted back and forth. His lips were parted and he let out a small gasp as he flipped to the next page, his fingers wrapped tightly around a Zippo lighter. It made Jacob chuckle.

“Morning. Did you sleep at all?” he asked, still chuckling.

“Morning,” Hyrum replied as he lifted his eyes from the book, the soft curls framing his face. “No, too busy reading.” He smiled, tapping his book, before turning his attention back to it, twirling the lighter in his hand. Using his thumb, he opened the lid and jerked his hand to flip it shut, while gnawing at his lip.

“Why do I smell cigarettes?”

Hyrum tensed and leered at Jacob. He’d smoked one, but it had been hours ago. It wasn’t possible that he could smell it. Or was it?

“Maybe you’re imagining things,” he suggested and flicked the lid open, his thumb teasing the flint ever so slightly. The desire to light it was almost too much, but instead, he flipped the lid shut and winced. It was a bad habit of his — when he smoked, he always had a lighter with him and having one meant that he was toying with it almost constantly. A telltale sign, which he didn’t realize.

“Or, maybe I saw you smoking, and I’m just fucking with you.”

“Ah, well that explains,” Hyrum muttered and grinned, his cheeks flushed. “Sorry.”

“Next time, share one with me,” Jacob said, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll go take a shower, and you better have some cigarettes left. Because I want one.” He turned to leave, but he turned back around and pointed at Hyrum. “And I do smell it. Since we’ve been here you’ve smoked six cigarettes.”

Hyrum’s jaw dropped and he stammered, trying to string together a cohesive sentence as Jacob left, laughing to himself. Clearly Hyrum hadn’t been as inconspicuous as he had thought. Shaking his head he turned his eyes back to his book, shoving the lighter in his pocket, a little ashamed that he'd been caught. And he had to admit that it was pretty juvenile to smoke in secret.

It didn’t take Hyrum long to get sucked into the book again, and as a soft, hollow banging rang through the bunker, he snapped his head up. He laid his book on the couch next to him, listening closely, staring at his own reflection from the television. He held his breath, his heart hammering in his ears and panic scraping at his throat. The bang repeated, followed by a muffled,  _ “Is anyone home?” _

The voice was extremely familiar, and as Hyrum tried to remember where he’d heard it, he jumped up and walked quickly to the bathroom door. He could hear the gushing of the water, and when he was just about to knock on the door, his hands shaking out of fear, the voice called out again.

_ “It’s me, Rook! Open up!” _ Apparently it was just quiet enough, that Jacob couldn’t hear it, because he didn’t say anything.

Relief washed over Hyrum and his heart skipped a beat. He darted along the hallway, hurrying across the command center with a smile plastered on his face. He didn’t think it was necessary to alert Jacob, after all, he should warn Rook first about his existence to avoid any confrontations. It wasn’t like he’d forgotten how much the two men hated each other, and Rook was most likely to throw a fit — after all he’d been the one who had failed in killing Jacob.

When Hyrum sprinted up the stairs, he was nervous, barely able to keep himself from screaming out of pure joy. If Rook had come a-knocking, it was probably somewhat safe to go outside, and it was exciting. He unlocked the hatch and pushed it open. The sunlight blinded him, and the warm, sweltering heat poured inside as he opened his mouth to greet Rook.

_ Thump _

A dull jolt of pain shot through his head, rippling along his skull. Something hit him, he realized as he staggered, his vision blurry and full of bright spots dancing around. His ears were ringing and he noticed that he was screaming as he fell backward, his consciousness evacuating quickly. A dark figure stepped inside the bunker as he plunged down the stairs, his body flopping against them like a ragdoll.

***

The first thing Hyrum realized as he came to, was the pain. When he breathed in, the pain pulsated inside his skull, and when he breathed out, it thudded behind his eyes. The pain was accompanied by nausea. It didn’t come in waves like it usually did; now it was a steady, pulsating queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. His whole body was aching, his muscles felt stiff and sore like he was a cat that had been pulled out of a dryer after spinning inside for an hour.

He opened his eyes slowly, immediately feeling grateful that there weren’t any bright lights blinding him. As he turned his head to the left, he realized that he was in his bedroom. A light was on in the hallway, and there was a quiet chatter coming from somewhere. Someone laughed, and a chair scraped against the floor. He could smell coffee and blood, and the metallic smell made him gag.

“Jake?” he called out weakly. He lifted his hand to his face, crying out in pain and squeezing his eyes shut. Carefully he ran his trembling fingers across his forehead, noticing sutures in his hairline. The pain and nausea indicated that he had a concussion, but it wasn’t a bad one. At least he hoped so. He rested his hand over his eyes, breathing heavily.

“Finally awake,” Jacob said and sat on the bed. Hyrum could feel his weight pressing against his thigh. “You were out for a few hours. How’re you feeling?” The concern he was feeling bled through, even though he tried to hide it.

“Like shit.”

“Need something for the pain?”

Hyrum’s shirt had hiked up again, and this time Jacob caved into the urge to touch him. He brushed his hand against the soft skin on the man’s stomach, reassuringly drawing circles with his fingertips.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I’ll get you something. I’ll be right back,” Jacob said softly and got to his feet.

Hyrum rolled to his side, biting his tongue to keep nausea at bay. He sat up and winced as his bare feet touched the cold floor. Somehow he managed to muster up a smile when Jacob came back and flicked the lights on. He was smiling, his cheeks flushed, which Hyrum hadn’t noticed earlier. He also hadn’t noticed that he had his large hunting knife strapped to his thigh, and seeing it made him nervous. There had to be a good reason why he was carrying it because it was the first time Hyrum had seen it since the Collapse.

“What’s going on? Why do you look so happy?”

Jacob knelt, amused by Hyrum’s worried tone. He handed him a glass of water and two pills. “Take these and I’ll explain.” His tone was light, and he was clearly trying to limit his smiling. But he couldn’t, so it just kept breaking free.

Hyrum sighed and obeyed. He emptied the glass, and as he was handing it back to Jacob, a sudden movement in the doorway caught his eye. All color drained from his face and he tensed, his eyes widening with fear. He didn’t hear it, as his heart was thudding loudly in his ears, but he let out a small whine as he recognized the man standing in the doorway. It was Joseph Seed, and that realization made him nearly piss himself.

“Kiddo?” Jacob asked, quickly nabbing the glass from his hand. He laid it on the floor before cupping his face and stroking his cheeks. “Are you alright?” He frowned and glanced over his shoulder, and met his brother’s scrutinizing stare. “Shit. I told you to wait.”

“You did,” Joseph stated to his brother, watching as he stood reluctantly. Jacob straightened his back, and his eyes narrowed as he measured his little brother, placing himself between him and Hyrum. Of course, he was more than glad that Joseph was alive, but he felt violated, because he acted like he owned the place, and it was annoying. As the thought crossed Jacob’s mind, he winced, because it didn’t feel right to feel annoyed.

“Wait in the kitchen, okay?” he asked, but it wasn’t a request, and they both knew it. For a fraction of a second, he was sure Joseph would argue with him.

But then he just huffed a frustrated, “Fine” and left, folding his arms and sighing heavily at his brother’s defiance. Which he could always address later when everything had calmed down.

Jacob instantly whisked around and squatted, taking Hyrum’s hands. “They’re both alive. Rook is too.”

“What?” he asked, still staring at the doorway, scared shitless.

“My brothers, kid. They’re alive. That’s why I was happy. But look, I told them I wanted to tell you first. I didn’t want them to scare you.”

Hyrum finally turned to look at him. He nodded slowly and said, “Good.” His voice was weak and his eyes wide as dinner plates.

Jacob brought his hand to his cheek for a moment, before sliding it to his nape. He pulled Hyrum closer, and for the first time, he kissed him, not the other way around. The man melted into the kiss instantly, fear leaving his body with a sigh.

When Jacob had heard the commotion, he’d went to check it out, and he’d lost his shit when he’d found Hyrum laying on the floor unconscious. Rook had smacked him with the butt of his rifle, and Jacob had been ready to kill. But his fury and his anger had shown him just how much he cared about the younger man.

Hyrum whimpered as Jacob slipped his tongue inside his mouth. They both knew that the chance to get caught was high. But neither of them gave a shit because their future was now a huge question mark. Jacob nipped at Hyrum’s lips, craving for his touch more than anything and regretting that he’d been holding back for so long. He dropped his hands and slipped them under Hyrum’s shirt, enjoying the warm skin under his palms. All he wanted to do was to pull the man into his lap and to never let go. And wanting to do so scared him.

Unlike John, Jacob had never been a fan of Joseph’s strict rules, and now he was defying them, even though he was in such close vicinity to his brother. It felt good, even if he did feel a twinge of guilt. But the pleasure he was feeling, the heavy rising of his chest and the soft, eager tongue against his own pushed the guilt away. It wasn’t like he was hurting anyone. He’d been abiding Joseph’s stupid rules long enough. Since he’d gone to juvie, all he’d done was respecting rules and authority. Juvie, military, homeless shelters, Joseph, Eden’s Gate… Rules after rules. And he was done.

When they parted, Hyrum was panting, with a soft look in his eyes and a blissful smile spread across his face. The pain was still there, thudding in his head and muscles, but the kiss had momentarily made him forget about it. Jacob’s hands were on his waist, his fingers gently brushing against his skin, clearly aching for more.

“Take all the time you need, but… When you’re ready, come to the kitchen. The Deputy wants to see you.” Jacob managed to hide his contempt towards the man he had spent so many hours hating and hunting. And now he’d given Jacob yet another reason to hate him, so it didn’t make things any easier. If not for Joseph, he would’ve killed him with his bare hands — a vengeance for everything he had done.

“Jake?” Hyrum asked hastily as Jacob stood. “I have to tell you something. I—”

“Let’s talk later, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. You go to your brothers. I’m guessing you have a lot of things to discuss.” Hyrum forced a saccharine smile, even though he wanted to stop him, but there really was no point in breaking the bubble he was in. Jacob was happy, and he wanted it to continue for as long as possible. The redhead nodded and left, but not without throwing one last grin from the doorway.

Hyrum muttered a quiet, “Fuck”, as he realized how complicated everything had just become. He was still shaken because of Joseph. His tall, yet lean stature and his intimidating aura signaled that no one could fuck with him without severe consequences. And as Hyrum was more than aware of the strict rules of Eden’s Gate, he was worried about the possible repercussions if Joseph were to find out about them.

The blossoming feelings Hyrum had for Jacob now felt surreal. Part of him had been dreaming that one day they could be more, that the past would magically disappear and make everything easy. Time had lulled him into believing that they would never be torn apart. Apparently two and a half months was enough to make him foolishly think so. It was such a short time, but then again, long enough to grow attached to someone.

Hyrum sighed and stood, pressing his hand against his stomach as a wave of nausea hit him. Swallowing heavily he headed for the kitchen but decided instead to assess the damage. He slipped inside the bathroom and closed the door behind him. The mirror showed a large bruise on his forehead and neat sutures in his hairline. There were traces of dried blood on his face. Could’ve been much worse, since whoever had stitched his head back together didn’t lack the skill to do so.

He washed his face with cold water, wincing as it stung in the wound. As he dried his face, the sutures got caught in the towel, accidentally tugging at them, and it hurt like hell. Hyrum winced, holding his breath and waiting for the pain to ease. All he wanted to do was sleep until the hammering headache had ceased, but he knew that it would be impossible with the other two Seed brothers prancing around. And he really didn’t want to face Joseph, let alone John, but he couldn’t just hide until they would decide to leave. If they would even leave. It was a harrowing thought.

Biting back an annoyed groan, Hyrum exited the bathroom and headed for the kitchen. He was surprised to find Rook and Joseph on the couch, suspiciously close to each other. Jacob was sitting at the table with John, and they stopped talking as Hyrum stepped inside. Jacob’s lips curled into a small, warm smile and his eyes narrowed.

“Can I just say that I’m a fucking idiot and that I’m sorry,” Rook said and jumped to his feet. “I didn’t recognize you, and I just reacted. I didn’t mean to hit so hard. Is your head alright? I’m so sorry, I really am.”

“Yeah, it’s… It’s fine, really,” Hyrum said, staring at the Deputy with a smile on his face. He’d grown a beard and, despite the fact that he looked a bit like a clean-shaven Peggie, he looked good. “You’re alive, that’s all that matters.”

“All thanks to Joseph,” Rook replied with a grin. “Have some coffee,” he continued. “There’s plenty.”

Hyrum avoided looking him straight into his eyes, and simply just nodded as he headed for the coffee maker. It didn’t slip by him unnoticed, that John was measuring him. His eyes moved up and down, and his brow was furrowed. He looked hostile, and the anger he had in his eyes made Hyrum’s skin crawl.

He took his mug from the counter and filled it, before slowly turning around. It was clear that Joseph was in charge. Rook looked like he had something to say, but he merely glanced at the preacher and swallowed his words before sitting down. All three of them were wearing black cargo trousers and black t-shirts, and Lord knows where they got the idea. Hyrum stifled a grin. Rook, it had probably been Rook’s idea.

“So… It’s safe to go outside?” he asked, not addressing anyone in particular.

“Yes. It has been for a while now,” Joseph said calmly.

“Month and a half, actually,” John butted in, his eyes glued to Hyrum. His voice was ice cold.

“Oh. That’s good.”

“What do you mean by that?” the baptist demanded as if he was conducting an interrogation.

“I… What? It’s… Good, you know,” Hyrum stammered. “Like… It’s good that it’s safe.”

“You  _ can  _ leave, you know, since it’s safe. You know where the door is.”

“John, what the hell?” Jacob asked and kicked his little brother under the table. “You can always pretend to be polite, you know.”

“No, I can’t,” he replied. He finally took his eyes off Hyrum, only to leer at his eldest brother, his shin throbbing. “We can leave, then.”

Hyrum’s stomach sank and he leaned against the counter, his head spinning. Of course, Jacob would want to leave with his brothers. The fact that he hadn’t even thought about it made him sick. Which raised one question; why had Jacob kissed him? It made no sense if he was indeed leaving.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Joseph said, throwing a warning glance at John. “You know very well, that we agreed on—”

“I don’t—”

“John,” Joseph snapped, raising his voice slightly. It made Hyrum flinch. John recoiled and winced as his gaze fell. He slouched in his chair, glowering at the table. The power that Joseph held over his brothers didn’t make Hyrum feel safe. On the contrary, he was terrified because of it. He searched for Jacob’s eyes for comfort, as he had no one else to turn to. A smile tugged at Jacob’s lips, but he didn’t let it show as he met Hyrum’s gaze.

“How have you two been holding up?” Rook asked, noticing the warm look the two men shared. He wanted to ease the tension hanging in the air, and he was sure he’d flip out on John if he kept talking back to Joseph.

“Fine,” Hyrum and Jacob replied in unison, breaking the eye-contact, both hoping that they wouldn’t have to elaborate.

Rook raised a brow. “Well, yeah I can see that.”

“What d’ya mean?” Jacob asked, his accent flaring up as he spoke the words quickly, nearly stumbling over them.

“You’re both alive,” the Deputy answered and laughed awkwardly. “I mean, it’s a good thing, don’t get me wrong! I’m glad that there are more Whitetails alive.”

“What?” Hyrum asked, not believing his ears. “There are others?”

“Yeah. In Fall’s End,” he replied, blinking in confusion. “Wheaty, Tammy and a bunch of others are there. They’re fine, mostly. Supplies are a bit scarce, but—”

“Shut up,” John hissed.

“Okay, what the fuck is wrong with ya?” Rook hissed back and got to his feet. He looked like he wanted to pounce the man right then and there. It was weird that he didn’t, but what was even weirder was that Joseph didn’t say, or do anything to stop a possible fight erupting between the two. He merely stared at Rook, his expression unreadable.

“Yeah, wouldn’t you like to know,” John replied, still staring at the table. “But guess what? I’m not telling ya.” He sounded bratty, and Jacob sighed in exasperation. He was already done with his littlest brother, but he stifled the urge to slap him, only because he didn’t want to be chided by his other little brother. Even though Joseph was more than used to the continuous bickering and fighting of his brothers, he didn’t tolerate it in the slightest.

“Do you want me to beat you up again?” Rook asked, balling his hands into fists. His knuckles turned sheet white, as he dug his nails into his palms. “Because I fucking will.” There was no doubt about who would win in a fight — the Deputy could kick John’s ass before he even had a chance to lift a finger. Trained in hand-to-hand combat or not, Rook was a bulky man, who could probably knock John unconscious with one hit.

Jacob jumped up, sending his chair flying. “Say that again and I’ll fucking kick your ass. Keep your hands off my brother,” he bellowed, his eyes blazing with anger and his hand hovering over the handle of his hunting knife, his fingers itching at the possibility of stabbing someone. John sat still, hanging his head and shaking ever so slightly. There was no telling who he was more afraid of — his brother, or the Deputy.

Joseph stood as well, laying a hand on Rook’s shoulder. “Jacob, sit,” he said sternly, not leaving any room for arguments. The contempt on his brother’s face upon hearing the order was clear as a summer day. “No one is hitting anyone.”

Wearing his reluctance openly Jacob picked up his chair and sat down, keeping his eyes fixed on Rook, pissed that Joseph was taking his side. He laid his hand protectively on John’s shoulder, digging his fingers into his flesh and crinkled his nose in disgust. Hyrum held his mug with shaking hands, holding his breath until his lungs ached. He had no idea why Joseph wasn’t scolding Rook, but it seemed like he and John had some serious issues. Having the four of them in the same space was a volatile cocktail.

They all felt the shame, which was inevitable when Joseph started his chiding. “No one is to raise their voices,” he said, making sure he caught everyone’s eyes, before continuing, “Disagreements are to be handled with words, not with fists.” He shared a meaningful look with the Deputy, who cringed. “If someone feels like they cannot obey that simple rule, you know where the door is.” He turned his head to look at Hyrum. “I am sorry for my brothers, sometimes they have no manners. I hope Jacob hasn’t given you any trouble.”

“It’s fine,” Hyrum replied quietly, pressing tighter against the counter. “He hasn’t given me any trouble.” Joseph didn’t believe him, as he was sure there was no way Jacob had been behaving.

“Joseph, I—” John started.

“That’s enough,” his brother said sternly, not even bothering to look at him. “Keep your excuses to yourself for now.”

“Fine.”

“Hyrum, was it?” Joseph asked and smiled. “I hear that you saved my brother, even though you had no obligation to do so. Thank you.” His tone was warm, but there was something hidden behind his words, which made Hyrum nervous. Like a silent warning to keep away from Jacob from now on.

“I… I was just doing my job,” he replied quietly. “It’s fine, really.”

“Oh? Your job?”

“Yes, I’m a nurse.” He sipped at his coffee, staring right past the preacher. “So, you don’t have to thank me.”

Joseph finally sat down, Rook following his example. “I already told Jacob that only a small part of Hope County is burned, but nature is taking over and pushing through the ashes. There is a lot of space for everyone,” he said and took Rook’s hand. Hyrum’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t dare to say anything. “There is no radiation, at least in the places we’ve been.”

“Radiation? So, the bombs were nukes?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. I didn’t see them. I heard the explosions, though. How much destruction did they cause elsewhere? I mean… Have you been outside Hope County?”

This time Rook opened his mouth, tangling his fingers with Joseph’s. “Not yet. It’s difficult, because we’d have to get a chopper or a plane, and wasting fuel isn’t that smart. And we can’t get through the tunnels without explosives.”

“Whitetails had a chopper hidden. It’s near, actually. And there should be a ton of fuel.”

“They did?” Rook asked, his eyes wide. Clearly he’d been too busy to notice it. And too focused on destroying everything and everyone that stood in his path.

“Yeah. I can show you where it is.”

“Sounds good! Thanks,” the Deputy replied, beaming as he turned to look at Joseph. “Did you hear?”

“Yes, I did,” the preacher said and chuckled at his lover’s enthusiasm. “Have you decided what you are going to do next?” he continued, flicking his eyes back to Hyrum.

“I… No. Not yet,” he replied. He had no plans, and it made him realize that there was something he had to do. “Jake? I need to talk to you.”

“Can it wait?”

Hyrum shook his head. “No, it’s… It’s important.”

Jacob stood slowly and nodded, suspiciously eyeing the Deputy. John grabbed his arm and tugged at it, hissing something quietly, making his brother sigh in exasperation. Suddenly Jacob was sure that John deserved a beating. He yanked his arm free and rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go to your room,” Jacob said as he exited into the hallway, Hyrum in tow, still holding his coffee mug. They both felt John’s eyes on their backs.

“Is everything alright?” the Whitetail asked quietly, his eyes fixed on Jacob’s tense shoulders as he followed him into his bedroom.

“Yeah,” he replied as he sat on the bed. He propped his elbows against his thighs and groaned. “It’s just John. He’s… difficult.”

“Okay,” Hyrum said and laid the mug on the small table on the other side of the room. He sat next to the former Herald and placed his hand on his knee, nervously brushing his thumb against the rough denim. “I need to know if… If you’re leaving.”

“I… I don’t know. Joseph hasn’t told me his plan yet.” Jacob sighed. “Look, kid, I… It’s been good, y’know?” He sounded nervous and lost.

_ It’s now or never _ , Hyrum thought. He took a deep breath and said, “I don’t want you to leave.” They were just six small words, but they still made Jacob’s heart skip a beat.

“You don’t?” he asked, his voice faltering. He didn’t dare to look at the younger man, afraid that he’d show just how relieved he was to hear those words.

Hyrum squeezed Jacob’s knee, as he got to his feet and turned to face him, slipping his hands to his nape. He didn’t say anything, he just climbed to his lap, straddling him tightly. Eyes prickling, he wrapped his arms around the redhead, letting out a relieved sigh when he hugged him back. Hyrum buried his face into the crook of his shoulder, trying to keep himself from crying.

Jacob’s hand glided up and down his back, and he pressed kisses on Hyrum’s neck, scratching his skin with his beard. He inhaled the familiar scent which he could recognize anywhere. Night after night they’d shared a bed, and every time Jacob had buried his nose amidst the soft curls, etching the man’s scent into his memory. Holding him felt right, and it felt good. He squeezed tighter and closed his eyes, trying to make the world stop for even one minute.

“Don’t leave,” Hyrum whispered quietly. “But if you do, let me go with you. Let me follow you. It makes no sense, I know. But… I just… I can’t…” He drew a shuddering breath and sniffled.

“Kid…” Jacob murmured and slid his fingers into his hair. He was speechless. It had been years since he’d felt like he actually had a chance with someone.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I—”

“What the hell?”

Hyrum quickly climbed off, nearly tripping, his heart thumping painfully against his ribs when he turned around to meet John’s eyes. His face felt numb and his knees weak, as the baptist stared at him, his eyes full of wrath.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, directing his words to Jacob.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Maybe not. But it’s Joseph’s.”

Jacob met his brother’s gaze with complete listlessness. Seconds passed, with a tense silence hanging in the air. Then he smiled and said, “No. It’s not. Not anymore.”

He could’ve hit John, and it wouldn’t have caused such a strong reaction; he stepped backward, his eyes wide and he stammered and heaved, trying to make sense of his brother’s words. Jacob suddenly stood and closed the gap between them, shaking his head.

“John. I love you, but sometimes you react before you think. This is one of those times.” He brought his hands to his little brother’s shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug, smacking his back with his hand. “You’re an idiot,” he said quietly, threading his hand amidst his overgrown curls.

Hyrum sat on the bed, his eyes fixed on John’s tattooed hands, as they grasped Jacob’s shirt and started to shake. He couldn’t understand the bond that the brothers shared. It was stronger than steel and concrete. The love that they had was carved into their skin, but it ran deeper than that. They shared the same flesh and blood, and Hyrum was painfully aware that he would never experience anything like it.

***

It wasn’t a surprise that Hyrum couldn’t sleep any longer. He’d retreated into his bedroom soon after, claiming that the pain in his head had been worsening with every second spent awake, and there was no way he was going outside. When Jacob had asked why he was so reluctant, he’d blamed the headache. When in reality the truth was far more complex — stepping out of Wolf’s Den would break the illusion that they were still trapped there, destined to keep each other company. And it was a step Hyrum wasn’t ready to take.

When he’d woken up, it was already night and the bunker was quiet. He tossed and turned for a long time, kicking the covers off and then pulling them back on. Anxiety was suffocating him, and he had to talk with Jacob again before it got any worse. His head was still hurting, but it had receded into a soft thumping inside his skull. Sighing heavily he got to his feet and pulled a pair of sweatpants on, listening closely.

It was dark, as the only source of light was the light coming from the kitchen. He slowly snuck out of his room, tying his hair into a bun, crossed the hallway and slipped into Jacob’s room, trying not to bump into anything. He darted straight towards the bed, fumbling in the dark.

“Jake?” he whispered, his hands grasping at nothing because the bed was empty and cold. A disappointed groan escaped him as he straightened his back and turned around. Someone was standing right in front of him and judging by their size, it wasn’t Jacob. He could only see their lean outline in the dark.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” It was John. “Haven’t you caused enough harm?” There was nothing else that John could see at that moment except for the possibility of his brother getting hurt. And that possibility was governing his every action and his every word.

“Sorry,” Hyrum muttered, trying to push past the baptist. No such luck. The man grabbed him by his arms, painfully digging his nails into his flesh.

“Leave,” he said quietly, his tone venomous.

“Let go and I will.”

“No. Leave Jacob alone. Pack your things and fuck off. You’ve done enough,” John growled. He shook Hyrum, and he felt sickly content as his nails popped through the soft skin, enticing a pained whimper. “Do you really think that he's attracted to  _ you _ of all people?” He scoffed. “Jacob is different. And I’m not letting a slut like you—”

“Excuse me, what—” Hyrum started, keeping his voice low as he didn't wish to attract any attention to the situation at hand.

“Don't give me an attitude. What, are you saying you’re not one, huh? Rook has told things, alright? Don’t fucking lie to me. We may not see eye to eye with the Deputy, but he prefers to make Joseph happy nowadays. And so do I. So you gotta leave, because you’re  _ not _ hurting Jacob.”

“What gives you the idea that—”

“Oh give it a break.” Hyrum was really getting annoyed at John’s interruptions, but he bit his tongue so he wouldn’t snap at him. “I saw that he kissed you earlier. If you don’t leave, I will slit your fucking throat while you sleep. You’re not pulling Jacob into your bullshit. I don’t understand how, but you’ve managed to manipulate him.” It was like all air had been knocked out of Hyrum’s lungs, and he gasped for breath, the blood gushing in his ears. The accusation made no sense. How could he manipulate Jacob Seed? It just wasn't possible.

“What did Rook tell you?” he finally managed to ask, his voice shaking. He couldn’t believe that Rook would do something like it. John couldn’t see if he was crying, but he assumed so because he could hear a subtle sniffling and it disgusted him.

“For example, you don’t know how to keep your pants on.” John dropped his hand and grabbed Hyrum’s dick through his sweatpants. It provoked a panicked, painful shove against his chest.

“Let go.”

“Shut up already. You fuck anything that moves.” He squeezed, hard, causing Hyrum to cry out in pain and paw at his chest, futilely trying to push him further, his nails scraping John’s neck and his arm as panic took ahold of him. “I will not watch idly as you disrespect my brother.”

“Stop it,” the man pleaded, his voice shaking. “Let go.  _ Please. _ ” He wanted to scream and cry, but he did none of it. He simply sniffled, fighting back tears and letting the panic wash over him, unable to do anything about it.

John let out a disgusted groan and moved his hand up so he could wrap his fingers around Hyrum’s neck. “Leave. You understand?”

“Let me—”

John pressed his thumb against his throat. “I’m not giving you another chance. Make up some excuse, I don’t give a shit what it is. But you  _ will _ leave. You can decide whether you walk out of here with your own two legs, or if I drag your lifeless, bloodless corpse out.” He finally let go and pushed Hyrum towards the door. “You’re filth, you know that, right? You’re not worthy of my brother. He’s a fucking Herald. And you’re just a whore. Now fuck off.” He spat in Hyrum’s face and shoved him violently out of the room.

Hyrum staggered backward, smacking his elbow against the door frame, the pain pulsating along his arm and tingling at his fingertips. He backed into his room, sliding his hand against the wall, and sat his bed, his stomach in a tight knot.  _ Thud. Thud. Thud. _ It took him a few minutes to realize what the quick-paced, loud thudding was — it was his heart, barely staying in one piece as it pounded relentlessly in his chest.

Then the tears came — bitter and hopeless tears flowed down his cheeks. He knew that the situation could have gone sideways, and no one would’ve helped him. Rook had switched sides and Jacob… Well, of course, he would take his brother’s side. After all, Hyrum was nothing compared to them.

He propped his elbows against his knees and clasped his hands, leaning his forehead against them. The bunker was almost silent, and he could only hear the occasional scraping sound as someone moved a chair somewhere, and the continuous humming of the ventilation. He felt violated, lonely and desperate.

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. Courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference,” Hyrum muttered quietly. He recited the same prayer again, and again, squeezing his eyes shut, his cheeks wet with tears. There was only one thing he wanted to do — to get high. And he knew he’d relapse again. It wasn’t like he could just walk into a narcotics anonymous meeting the next day for some peer support. And it wasn’t like he could go to Jacob and ask for help.

Hyrum sighed and dropped his arms. Suddenly he knew what he had to do. He pulled his backpack from under his bed, wiping the tears off his cheeks. There was no point in staying any longer. He started to pack his things as quietly as possible, folding his clothes neatly and making sure he’d have enough room for food and water. He kept glancing at the doorway, terrified that John would come after him.

Seething with anger, he switched to his Whitetail uniform, pulling the jacket on with sharp, annoyed movements. If he wasn’t allowed to stay, well, he was going to make sure everyone knew where his loyalties lied. He took his holster, gun, and knife from under the bed and strapped the holster around his thigh.

Even though it hurt, Hyrum had to leave his guitar behind. It had been a gift from Keith, and he’d been carrying it around for years. But now he just couldn’t drag it with him. His heart felt heavy as he headed for the storage room, his hands shaking and his mouth dry. He fished the small metallic box from under a shelf in the corner, where Jacob had hidden it. Haphazardly he shoved jerky, water bottles and cans of food into his backpack, glad that he still had something to make him forget.

Hyrum marched into the command center, his boots thumping loudly against the floor, not giving two shits if someone would hear him or not. He was surprised to find the other two Seed brothers there, gathered around a table with maps spread over it. Jacob was leaning against the edge of the table, black circles around his eyes and he snapped his head up when he heard footsteps. His eyes widened and his lips parted, as he assessed the situation, unsure of what was happening.

Throwing one more look at him, Hyrum headed for the hatch, gnashing his teeth so much it hurt. Jacob was shocked because his clothes felt like a slap across his face and he pushed himself upright, ignoring Joseph who reached his arm to stop him.

“Kiddo?” he called out, harshly slapping his brother’s hand away. “Hey, kid! Wait.”

“What?” Hyrum asked and stopped, his shoulders tense. He turned around, struggling to keep his composure as he hovered in the doorway.

“Are you leaving?”

“Yeah. Look, I thought about it, and…” He swallowed, trying to get rid of the painful lump in his throat. “No thanks. I’d rather die than spend another minute with you here. I have better things to do, and better company to keep.” His voice nearly broke down.

Jacob recoiled, blinking rapidly, as he tried to understand. But he couldn’t because it made no fucking sense. He cleared his throat and said, “Wait a sec, would ya?”

“Fine,” Hyrum said, but turned around anyways and jogged the stairs up. Holding his breath in nervous anticipation, he pushed the hatch open, sighing as the cool night air enveloped him. It felt refreshing, and he breathed deeply, feeling light-headed after. It was safe to go outside — the thought felt surreal, the air smelled surreal, everything even looked surreal. The moonlight pouring over the treetops, the long shadows thrown against the mountain slopes, the moon itself a large, silver disc hanging in the sky.

When Hyrum heard heavy footsteps behind him, he turned around slowly, one foot out of Wolf’s Den.

“Here,” Jacob said and held out a Whitetail rifle and a box of bullets. He was shivering. “You need these. And… Be careful out there.” He wanted to know what was happening, and why the kid was leaving, but he couldn’t do it. There was a possibility that the answer itself would be far more painful than not knowing the reason.

Hyrum just nodded and took them, throwing the sling over his shoulder and shoving the box into the front pocket of his jacket. He hesitated, staring into Jacob’s pained blue eyes, etching the memory into his brain, but eventually turned around and started to walk south without saying anything. Not that he could have, even if he’d wanted to. His throat was squeezed shut, and as soon as he reached the bottom of the mountain slope he stopped, not trusting his legs.

He wasn’t spooked easily, but John had made him feel the bone-crushing fear he hadn’t felt in years. And when he got spooked, he had a tendency to make rash decisions and go out of his way to sever bonds he’d formed with other people. It had always been a problem of his. Even though he always regretted fucking everything up, he was unable to stop himself. It was like he was merely a bystander in his own life.

“I really hope You have a plan for me,” Hyrum said quietly as he stared at the vast night sky above, his eyes stinging. “Cos fuck if I know what to do next. Take care of him. Honestly, that’s all I ask. I don’t care what happens to me next, but… Don’t let any harm befall him. Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Fuck you John, right?  
Thank you for reading, and I hope you leave a Kudos, or a comment!! They mean the world to me.  
xoxo <3


	9. Fancy seeing you here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao sorry yeah I managed to edit this on time even though I had a busy weekend  
so without further ado ENJOY

Days passed by in a dull haze, and Hyrum felt more lost than he’d ever felt before. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to turn around and run back to Jacob. But it was exactly what he didn’t do. Instead, on the seventh day after he’d left, he finally decided to head for Fall’s End. His clothes were like a target, and he knew if he’d meet Peggies, he’d have to resort to killing again. It was the one thing he wasn’t prepared to do, so he kept a close eye on his surroundings, flinching at unexpected sounds.

He’d spent the week holed up in an abandoned cabin near Wolf’s Den, glad that the weather was warm. Every night he would climb on the roof, and sit still, watching as the moon rose up to the deep, dark sky dotted with bright stars. He would stare at the jagged mountainsides and the trees sticking from it, his heart aching as he realized that he’d probably never share the scenery with Jacob. It was a juvenile thought, and Hyrum knew it.

Against all odds, he’d managed to keep his hands away from the vials and pills inside the metallic box he’d carried around since he was fifteen. Not once had it been empty during the years; he’d made sure he always had small pieces of heaven with him. Even after all the rehabs and twelve-step programs he needed to have the option to shut the world out at any given moment. And, if it ever came to it, he needed to have the option to end his own life.

Hyrum had already relapsed once, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before he would relapse again. And it would happen again and again, because the remnants of his self-control were slipping between his fingers like sand. He’d already ran out of reasons not to use, and the only thing barely holding him back was the stupid idea that Jacob would come looking for him. But he never came.

It was a hot July and by noon the sun felt like it was trying to scorch the county. Hyrum avoided walking on the paved roads, as they radiated heat and he was already uncomfortable because of the warm weather. Sure, he was born and raised in Utah, and he’d grown up scouring the salt flats, but the heat wasn’t his friend. He was forced to wear long sleeves so his light skin wouldn’t burn, making every summer sheer hell.

The first July post-Collapse didn’t seem to be any different. Well, he couldn’t just escape the heat to his properly air-conditioned million-dollar apartment in Salt Lake City, overlooking the Temple Square. But other than that, it was a plain old summer month. In a way Hyrum was glad that he didn’t have to suffer summers with his ex-fiancé anymore.

Most of the Whitetail Mountains looked untouched, and it made Hyrum smile. The steep mountain slopes and the rough terrain pleased his eye more than the copper-red sandstone rock that surrounded his family’s summer house, and more than the buzzing of the city he’d called home. In his heart, he’d always been a country boy, who rather scoured the wilderness than went for a coffee in one of the fancy uptown cafés his ex used to frequent. The only thing he missed was the Salt Lake Temple, which had been as his safe haven for years.

Even though it made zero sense, he missed Jacob like crazy. So badly, in fact, that his whole body seemed to ache because of it. Being alone wasn’t his cup of tea, but it wasn’t just that. His feelings ran deeper, and he knew that given enough time, those small, tingling feelings would eventually grow. They were already rooted deep, and no matter how much Hyrum tried, he couldn’t rip them off. What did it matter, what Jacob had done before the Collapse? He wasn’t the only one who’d killed and hurt people. Sin was a sin. There was no comparing them. One wasn’t worse than the other. Although he was sure that if his sins would come to light, even Jacob would condemn him.

Hyrum looked around as he suddenly heard the familiar lapping of waves. He paused and breathed in the warm air and decided to follow the soft sound. To do so, he had to deviate from his path and get off the main road that led to Fall’s End. He hopped over a railing and smiled as his boots sank into the soft earth, his heart craving for the care-free summers of his childhood.

The lapping came from a small lake, seated beneath a soft mountain slope, fenced with a thick tree line in the west. Hyrum threw his backpack on the ground, propping his rifle against it, and proceeded to shuck his jacket off. Listening closely, he folded it neatly and placed it next to his backpack. It was quiet, almost serene. A lone dullard glided across the lake, leaving behind small V-shaped ripples.

Peggies or not, he was going to kick back for a while. There was enough shrubs and trees that he would be hidden from sight if anyone would walk along the road. Hyrum took off his shoes and shirt, before lying on his back on the grass. It tickled his skin, and the light flickered from between the foliage, with bright spots dancing around him. He closed his eyes, sighing contently as he listened to the soft splashes created by the trouts bursting through the surface. Then again, what would it matter if someone would come along and end his life?

A branch snapped and Hyrum sat up, his heart thudding loudly. He glanced at his wristwatch and noticed he’d dozed off for an hour. Stifling a yawn, he looked around, trying to figure out what had jostled him awake. He couldn’t hear anything except a quiet chirping and his own heavy breathing.

“Fancy seeing you here,” someone said behind him, their softly rolling Texan accent sounding eerily familiar. Hyrum’s blood froze in his veins, and he slowly turned around, his fingers digging into the soft soil. He lifted his gaze, staring into the dark eyes of tall Chosen who emerged from behind the thick shrubs. Hyrum was ready to pounce him, and the Chosen must’ve noticed it, because he pulled off his balaclava, and grinned. “I believe we’ve met.”

“Yeah, I…” Hyrum muttered. It took him a while to recognize the man. But when he did, he breathed out in relief. Several months prior he’d saved the Chosen’s life while patrolling around Whitetail Mountains. “Theodore, right?”

“Yup. But like I said, you can just call me Teddy,” he replied and stepped closer. He sat down with a sigh, adjusting his bow hanging from his shoulder so it wouldn’t touch the ground.

“You could’ve killed me.”

“And I will. Next time,” Theodore said and turned to look at the Whitetail. “Like I said, I owe ya one.” He flashed a grin and rubbed his palm against the back of his shaved head, abashed and a little guilty that he owed his life to a Whitetail. Hyrum felt like a flea next to him — Teddy was a big hunk of a guy, and the Collapse hadn’t made him any smaller.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. So, what’s a Whitetail like you doing all the way down in Holland Valley?”

“Taking a break,” he replied ambiguously and grinned while wrapping his arms around his legs.

“Fair enough. You know it’s dangerous to strut around with clothes like that?”

“I’m not strutting.”

Theodore burst out laughing. “You just don’t know it, ‘cos you can’t see it. But I saw it. You do strut like it’s nobody’s business.”

Hyrum snorted, and let his eyes rest on the small ripples of the pond. The surface was glittering in the sunlight, and it looked like small diamonds had been weaved into it. Initially, he had been relieved that he could go outside, but then the haze of sorrow had taken over. Now he managed to enjoy the scenery once again, thanking God that he was still alive on a beautiful day like it.

“I still don’t get it,” Theodore suddenly said, as he took his bow from his back and set it on the ground. He removed his jacket and threw it further away, before plopping on his back and exhaling forcefully.

“Get what?”

“Why you saved me. I could’ve killed you back then.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Yeah, well I ain’t stupid. You were helpin’ me. Care to tell me why?”

Hyrum sighed. “Because I help everyone. I don’t see affiliation, I don’t see the insignia, the color of one’s clothes. I see a human in need of my help. And I do what’s necessary to keep them alive.”

“Is there a reason why you’re like that?” Theodore asked, still intrigued by the kindness of the young Whitetail. His eyes narrowed as he smiled, his gaze gliding over the pale skin on his back, fixating on the small tattoo. Not once in his life had he met anyone so kind, and so pure.

“Yes. A few. But… Let me tell you something,” Hyrum said and turned around so he could face Theodore. He bit his lip, before saying, “I was twenty-three, a rich, spoiled kid with far too much time and money in his hands. I was a cocky piece of shit, who thought that everyone was beneath me. It was the first time I traveled to Cape Town for work. Instantly I was forced to see the ugliness of the world because most of the patients were poor, drug addicts, criminals, or all three. Everything that I despised and loathed. I had to face the crime, the unevenly distributed wealth, the stigma that people carry. There’s a lot of gangs there, so I was forced to learn how to not judge people by insignia, guns or tattoos.”

Theodore sat up, his brow furrowed. “So… You’re saying your patients had guns when they saw you?”

Hyrum nodded, his brow furrowed. “It wasn’t allowed, but I let people keep them. I understood why they were scared, or nervous.” He met Theodore’s eyes with an unwavering stare. “I think we both know what it’s like to be afraid, holding on to your gun as you look around, trying to spot the insignia which have been etched into your mind. For me, your cross means death. It’s the same thing.”

“Why’d you help me then?” the Chosen asked, tilting his head, confused.

“I haven’t grown numb, or blind to suffering. My eyes were opened when I was working there. It didn’t matter what kind of clothes someone had, or what tattoos they had. Under all that, they were all human. People. Just like you and me. I had to accept that so I could help them. To my surprise, they were all the same. People with friends, families, loyalties, dreams… I’ve carried that lesson, including the ones I got from my father with me ever since. And I’ve been on the other side of normalcy, so I know what it’s like.”

“Watcha mean by that?”

Hyrum pinched his brow. He wasn’t sure why he was pouring his heart out to the Chosen, but he was unable to stop. “I was a drug addict. I’ve been in rehab, and I’ve seen how people treat those that are, in their opinion, somehow beneath them. There’s always going to be a ravine between me and normal people, and if I’d try to cross it, I would die. You were fighting for a cause, just like me. You were loyal to Joseph, I was loyal to Eli. But did it matter when the shit hit the fan? No, because God doesn’t look at your clothes. Everyone’s life is precious, and everyone deserves another chance.”

Theodore whistled and shook his head. “I don’t agree with ya, but I think that if more people were like you, this world would be a better place.”

It was the most sincere and honest compliment Hyrum had heard in years, and it caused his eyes to prickle. He quickly turned to look at the grass, tugging at the blades, trying to even his breathing.

“I agree with Joseph. He has a point. It’s just his actions that I can’t agree with,” he admitted quietly.

“You do?”

“Yeah, I do. Because… Fuck,” Hyrum hissed and yanked off a handful of grass. “I’ve seen how the world treated people before the Collapse. Again and again, the people who bled the most were bled some more, their futures and health ripped away from them, so someone else could get richer. He has a fucking point. It feels fucked up to admit it out loud.”

Theodore’s eyebrows were as high as they could get, and he was blinking slowly. “Okay, wow. That’s a lot.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“No, it’s not that… Look, I wouldn’t be here without Joseph. That guy saved my life. I… I didn’t think that you understood the point he was trying to make.”

“I bet a lot of people say that,” Hyrum replied and flicked his eyes up. “He’s not all bad, I guess. But look, I should go. I have a long walk ahead.” The Chosen made him uneasy, even though he knew he wouldn’t hurt him. At least not yet.

“Okay. I hope we’ll never meet again,” Theodore said, and he meant it. He knew it would be a waste to kill the kid. As Hyrum stood to leave, he smiled down at Theodore, sweat glistening on his chest.

“Give me your map and a pen.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it.”

The Chosen frowned, but pulled out a map and a pen from his pocket and handed them to Hyrum, curious of what was to come.

“I suggest you head to Wolf’s Den,” he said as he unfolded the map. He stared at it for a few seconds, before drawing something on it. With a smile on his face, he gave it back to the Chosen and continued, “Your Herald is alive. Don’t tell him I told you, though. That’s all I ask.” The shock on Theodore’s face made him chuckle. “Anyways. Good luck. And… I also hope we never meet again, because I really don’t wish to shoot you.”

“I think I’m faster,” Theodore replied, staring at the map with wide eyes.

Hyrum laughed. “Yeah, probably.” He dressed quickly, making sure his pistol and rifle both had the safety on. As he started to walk towards the road, he waved his hand and adjusted the strap of his rifle. He then paused, turned around and said, “Actually… The Heralds and Joseph are all alive and well. I… I thought you should know. I wish you luck.” He whisked around and continued walking.

Theodore stared after him, holding his map tightly, his eyes watery, and he had an inkling that they would meet again.

***

When Hyrum saw the first glimpse of Fall’s End, he also saw the blackened trees behind it, stretching further south. His stomach dropped, as he realized that it would take years for the forest to return to its original, healthy state. Sure, it would start to look normal soon enough, as ferns and grass were already starting to grow back en masse. But even then it would be far from healthy. The soil would take a long time to recover from the fires.

Walking through Fall’s End was weird, and as Hyrum scanned his surroundings, he realized that the whole place had been ransacked. Doors hung from their hinges, windows were broken and there was trash everywhere. He popped by Spread Eagle, only to find out that the Whitetails had relocated to the county jail. Frustrated and tired, Hyrum left and started to make his way towards the jail, hoping that it was a safe place to spend the night.

He knew he could always stop somewhere else and rest, but he was adamant in reaching the jail before night would fall. And even if it did before he reached it, he would continue walking, pushing his already exhausted body beyond its limits. It was more a way to self-destruct than sheer stubbornness or determination.

Wherever he looked, he could see reminders of the Seeds’ reign of terror. The billboards, Bliss-flowers, roadblocks, spray-painted texts on the sides of buildings. His heart ached because of it. They’d been wrong to cause so much harm, but in a way he understood why; the world had ended, so it was logical that Joseph had wanted to keep his family shielded from it. And because of Rook, he had failed to do so.

When he’d joined the Whitetails with his friend Brooke, they were told that once, years ago, the Seeds had been important pillars of the community. Always helping, always supporting. Giving, but never taking. Nearly everyone had liked them, and some people joined their church. Back then, no one gave it much thought. Yes, they had seemed like a bunch of religious zealots, but America was the land of the free, so no one complained. Especially when someone found out that the Seeds were extremely wealthy.

But everything had come crashing down, when John had rolled into Fall’s End with his men armed to the teeth, setting new rules as he took over Holland Valley by force. He’d given the people a slim chance, as per Joseph’s orders, Eli had assumed, and reluctantly left Fall’s End alone for a while.

They were also told that Eden’s Gate had another church — a much bigger than the one in Joseph’s compound — but it was a little way towards Missoula, just outside Hope County. It had always been heavily guarded, but no one knew precisely why. And it was far enough so Eli didn’t bother himself with it. Especially after the roads were closed, and there was no way of leaving Hope County. One part of Hyrum wondered if it was still there, standing in a field, surrounded by wildflowers, the staple throwing a dark shadow on the ground.

It took Hyrum the better part of a day to reach the county jail, and as he finally saw it in the distance, partially shrouded by trees, he breathed out in relief. The Henbane flowed silently under the bridge as he crossed it, his eyes fixating on the large WE LOVE YOU billboard. For some fucked up reason it made him smile, not angry like it used to. Because now he knew, that the Seeds truly loved their followers.

As he walked up to the gates, he raised his hand and waved to a young Whitetail standing guard on top of the wall, smiling widely. He looked suspicious but called out someone to open up the small door attached to the gate. They creaked it enough so Hyrum was able to squeeze inside.

“Hi. Mary May told you were camped here,” he said to a dark-haired woman, sporting the same uniform as he was.

“We sure are. I'm Lucy,” she said as she pushed the door shut and locked it, smiling politely.

“I’m Hyrum.”

“Hey! You’re Brooke’s friend, right?”

“Yeah. She here?” Hyrum asked and raised a brow. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not, that Brooke had talked about him. There really was no telling what she’d been talking about.

"Yup. She's inside. Lemme take you to her," Lucy said and grinned. She had perfectly straight and white teeth, and it seemed like the type of person who enjoyed showing them off. She came across a bit preppy, but nice. “So, apocalypse.”

Hyrum chuckled. “Yeah. How’ve you been holding up? Need medics?” Lucy glanced at him with her brow furrowed, as she headed for a door on the right from the main doors.

“Oh, right, duh! Brooke told me you’re a nurse,” she said as she pushed the door open, rolling her eyes at her own stupidity. She continued along the hallway, turned left and finally stopped when they reached on the of the cell blocks. “It’s good to have you here, we need the manpower,” she added and smiled, stepping aside.

Hyrum walked past her and scanned his surroundings. A wide smile spread to his face as he saw a familiar, frizzy cloud of black hair at the far end of the room. Brooke was sitting in front of a radio, apparently fixing it while cursing loudly. Hyrum walked up to her as quietly as possible and laid his hands on her shoulders and whispered, “Guess who.”

Brooke jumped up and whisked around. Her eyes widened and she screamed, before pulling her friend into her arms. She smacked Hyrum’s back until he was coughing and wheezing, squeezing him tightly.

“Bitch! Where the hell have you been? I thought you were dead.”

“Not yet, but if you keep hitting me I’ll soon be,” he replied hoarsely. Brooke snorted and pushed him further, her eyes going up and down.

“You look like shit. And this hair!” she exclaimed, yanking a long strand of hair. “Boy, I know it’s the end of the world, but c’mon. You’re gonna have to let me cut it.”

“And you look great, like always,” Hyrum chuckled. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too, dumbass. How’re you still alive?”

“That’s a story I gotta tell later,” he said quietly, averting his eyes. Brooke raised a brow but didn’t argue with him. She knew her friend well enough to keep her mouth shut. “Whenever you have time, really.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Yeah.”

Brooke clicked her tongue and nodded. “Alright. Sit for a minute. I’m almost done. Then we can talk.”

“Thanks,” Hyrum replied and pulled up a chair. He crossed his arms and watched as Brooke sat back down and started to connect wires into the radio. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Hyrum to lose interest, as he never cared for electronics. Instead, he looked around, following people with his eyes, gnawing at his lip and wondering what the Seeds were doing. When his mind was idle, all he could think about were the quiet nights spent curled up against Jacob’s side, one hand always holding onto his shirt.

“So, I’m guessing that whatever happened, the end of the world isn’t treating you well,” Brooke said, fiddling with the wires.

“You could say that,” Hyrum replied slowly. He wanted to tell everything, but he knew he’d have to leave the Seeds out. Mentioning Rook wasn’t a good idea either. It would be a daunting task. “The past week has been a struggle.”

Brooke turned her head and stared at her friend. “You relapsed, didn’t you?”

Hyrum flinched, his eyes wide, as he turned to look at her. “What? How did you—”

“I was right, then… You have that guilty look on your face. The same one you’ve always had when you’ve relapsed. Was it bad?”

“No. I… It was one time. I had help.”

“Was it because of Keith?” Brooke asked carefully, trying to hide her annoyance, and turned her attention back to the radio. She flicked it on and pumped her fist in the air when she noticed the lights went on. Then she turned it back off and took a screwdriver, biting her lip, her eyes going back and forth between the manual laid out in front of her, and the radio itself.

“Yeah, it was.”

“In my opinion, you’re still clinging onto him. He’s gone. You need to accept that.”

“Are you suggesting I can’t grieve him?” His voice was trembling.

“Yes, actually I am.” Brooke sighed and pinched her brow. “Four years, Hyrum. It’s too long. It’s not healthy.”

“Okay, you’re not allowed to mention him anymore.”

“But I—”

“No,” Hyrum hissed, his eyes prickling. “Don’t speak of him. You have no right.”

***

“Jacob, it’s been a week. Stop moping around.”

“I’m not moping, John,” the soldier muttered and rested his eyes on the large map spread in front of him. Joseph was sitting across from him, his eyes fixed on John, with a warning look on his face. “I’m working. Go pick a fight with the fucking Deputy for all I care. Scram.”

“Jacob,” Joseph said softly and turned his eyes to his older brother. “Don’t talk to John like that. We’ve been over this.”

“Whatever,” he replied and pulled the map closer, tapping the table with a pen. “So, if we wish to go through the tunnels we should start with the Ancient Bison tunnel. It will bring us closest to Missoula. And there’s a lot of roads and gas stations we could loot. Stores. A hospital forty miles down the road, if I remember correctly. I gotta go to the veteran’s center to pick up maps soon.”

John sighed and poked the TV screens. “The cameras aren’t working?” he asked. Part of him wanted to annoy his brother enough to get some attention from him, and interrupting his work was a good way to do just that.

“No, they’re not. We can, however, fix them,” Jacob said. “But only if Joseph approves,” he added venomously and threw a nasty glance at his brother. He knew that Hyrum hadn’t left because he wanted to, and he was convinced it had been Joseph’s doing. Jacob couldn’t outright blame him for it, though, instead, he’d been acting like a dick. Which Joseph had been taking extremely well.

As much as he loved his brothers, he felt like something was missing. And he knew what it was — Hyrum. But it was more than just his physical presence he was missing. He missed the banter, the flirt, the shared meals, the music. Sleeping alone felt weird, his room felt cold and everything seemed so pointless. Jacob knew it wasn’t true, but it didn’t ease the sorrow he was feeling. He was done with losing people for whatever reason, and he swore that when he would find Hyrum, he’d never let go of him again.

Focusing solely on his duties as a Herald was mind-numbingly dull. Before the Collapse he’d been hoping that he could share the burden with someone. Someone to bounce ideas off of. But neither of his brothers was suitable for the job. They had their duties which kept them busy enough. And pulling a random Chosen from their work to sit still for hours on end in his office just wasn’t a good plan — he’d managed to piss off quite a few of his Chosen.

“I have something to discuss with you,” Joseph said suddenly. His voice was strained and he was nervously tapping his foot. He flicked his eyes to Jacob and smiled. “It’s about Rook.”

“Is that so?” he asked slowly, leaning back in his chair. He folded his arms, trying not to look annoyed at the mention of the one man he hated most in the world. He’d noticed the warm looks and touches Rook and Joseph shared, and he knew that they shared the same bed. What he didn’t know was the extent of their relationship, and quite frankly, he didn’t want to know.

“Yes. I… We…” the middle Seed muttered. He sighed and blurted, “The Voice is back.”

“What?” John asked, hurrying to the table. He slammed his hands against it, making Jacob hiss. He glanced at his oldest brother before leaning closer to Joseph, his eyes wide. “It’s back? Really? When? What did it say? Why didn’t you—”

“John. Calm down,” Jacob snapped and gritted his teeth. He saw how his littlest brother rolled his eyes.

“A while ago. It was… It was the same day you contacted me, John. It… It showed me visions of Rook. I mean, it… There was a lot of information, and I… I don’t understand why it showed me that you both were dead, I… I don’t know if it was a warning, or—”

“Joseph, just spit it out. You’re babbling,” Jacob said.

“I… Hmm. It is possible that I am a bit nervous and—”

“Spit it out for fuck’s sake.”

Joseph winced, and mumbled, “Rook and I are together. We… It’s… Ah, it’s difficult to explain. I love him.”

John whistled. “Oh-kay,” he said and pushed himself upright. “I noticed that something was different between you two, but… That’s huge. But I’m glad. If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

Joseph melted into a small, nervous smile and he nodded. “That is good to hear. Jacob, why… Jacob?” His smile faltered as he saw the furious expression on his brother’s face. For the first time in a long time, he was genuinely afraid of his older brother, and he could feel his heart picking up the pace. His smile vanished and his eyes widened with fear.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” the soldier asked and jumped up. He was shaking, his fists clenched. “Is it too much to ask that you would give me a little bit of leeway? Is it? You cannot control me anymore, Joseph. You… You drove him away. You’re selfish. I…” He laughed dryly and pinched his brow. All the anger he’d been building up inside of him began to pour out. “Fuck. This is ridiculous. You’re sleeping with the enemy, and then you… You think that you and that fucking Deputy of yours are allowed to fuck up  _ my _ life?”

“What? I don’t… What are you blaming me of, Jacob?”

“Don’t play stupid, you hypocritical piece of shit.”

Joseph let out a whimper, his eyes glued to his older brother. “I… I am not. John, what is he talking about?” The worry and fear in his voice were disturbingly clear.

John lifted his hands. “Hey, don’t look at me. I have no idea,” he lied and took a step back, trying to look as innocent as possible, hoping that neither of his brothers took note of his lie. He glanced at Jacob, but he was too focused on being pissed off to notice anything.

“You’re the reason he left, aren’t you? You said something to him, didn’t you?”

“What… Are you talking about Hyrum? Because I didn’t say anything. I had no reason to. He saved you. That’s—”

“Yeah, right. Like John didn’t snitch on us,” Jacob snarled, his eyes darting between his brothers. He was barely holding himself together.

“I never said a word,” John said quietly. He stuck his hands to his pockets and shrugged. “He doesn’t know.”

Jacob stared at him, all color draining from his face, as he realized how wrong he’d been. “Give us a minute, alright?” he said, leering at John. The baptist nodded and left slowly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure his oldest brother wasn’t going to flip out as soon as he was out of the room. He didn’t wish to eavesdrop, but he stayed within earshot, so he could intervene if something were to happen.

Joseph waited until he couldn’t hear footsteps anymore, before asking, “What’s going on? You have to talk to me, Jake. This isn’t like you.”

Jacob sighed and sat down, folding his arms defensively. “I thought… You had something to do with it. Then, if you don’t… It makes no sense. Someone did something. He wouldn’t have just left.” He groaned and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I wanted to keep him close. He wanted the same. I don’t understand.”

“What are you talking about? Did you love him, or—”

“No,” Jacob said quickly and dropped his hands. “It wasn’t like that. It’s a long story.”

Joseph smiled and reached his hand across the table. Jacob took it, squeezing tightly. He felt stupid. Why he’d been suspecting  _ Joseph  _ of all people? It wasn’t like him to act behind anyone’s back. He had always voiced his disapproval, knowing very well that he had enough authority to do so.

“I have time.”

And so Jacob told everything, starting from the first day. He recounted everything he could remember, even the kisses and the nights they’d spent sleeping next to each other. Joseph held his hand, listening closely, not once interrupting, but from time to time he nodded or gave a curt smile. He was worried but also glad that despite everything, Jacob had found someone. He’d found solace, after all.

“You should’ve talked to me earlier,” Joseph said when his brother was done. Jacob was hanging his head, his shoulders tense and breathing ragged. “But Jake, this is but a trial God has put in front of you. Hang on tight. He will come back.”

“He won’t.”

“He’s taking a detour. But he’s coming back. It’s God’s plan.”

“You really believe that,” Jacob said quietly and lifted his gaze. “You truly believe he’s coming back.” He’d never understood his brother’s faith. It was like a bedrock — never crumbling, never breaking down, no matter what happened.

“Of course I do,” Joseph replied. He took both of Jacob’s hands, interlocking his fingers with his. He didn’t say that he didn’t just believe it; he knew it for a fact. With a soft hum, he began to sing quietly,  _ “When the sky has cleared, and the storm has passed. We'll walk arm in arm, down our promised path. We'll watch the sun come up, from its bed of black. We'll enter Eden's Garden, and never look back…” _

Joseph let his singing fall silent and he continued humming until he could see the muscles in Jacob’s arms relax. He’d seen the defiance in his older brother, and it was scary. Something had shifted, and Joseph could feel it, but it was a good thing. The Collapse had come, and he’d been reunited with his brothers, something he’d secretly been praying for. Hanging on to hope had been a good choice, even though it hadn’t felt like it nearly three months prior.

“Are you still willing to serve my cause, Jacob?” he finally asked, fearing the answer.

“Yes. With a few exceptions,” Jacob replied, not a trace of uncertainty in his voice.

Joseph smiled and nodded. “As long as you are by my side, nothing else matters. I cannot do this without my family. When Hyrum comes back, we can discuss rules.” He saw the flash of anger in his brother’s eyes, so he added, “I said discuss, Jake. I am not going to order you around. You were right, I cannot control you anymore. It was… Wrong of me to behave like that before. When I thought you both were dead, I could see my transgressions, and I’ve prayed for forgiveness. I can only hope that you will forgive me too.”

“I forgive you, Joseph. I always will. There’s nothing you can do to make me hate you. I… I trust you. But you need to ease up with the rules.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Jacob. And I always will, no matter what.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed and tell me what you thought!!  
xoxo
> 
> Drop a Kudos or a comment if you have the time, thank you! <3


	10. June 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A SPECIAL CHAPTER Y'ALL  
Let's go back four years, and see how Hyrum and Keith's story ended. Because I know some of you are extremely interested in hearing more about their relationship. So, let's see what happened during one fateful night in June 2014...

** _University of Utah Hospital, Salt Lake City, Utah_ **

** _June 2014_ **

The hospital was disturbingly quiet, as Hyrum waited for an elevator in its empty lobby. He tapped his foot, his hands deep in his pockets, and holding a syringe in his hand. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that it was all going to end. When the elevator stopped with a soft ding, he darted inside, squeezing between the metallic doors before they were even fully opened. He bumped straight into a tall doctor, startling her. She stepped backward, and she brought her hand to her chest.

“You scared me!”

“Yeah, sorry,” Hyrum muttered.

“It’s fine. You in a hurry?” She had a soft, Australian accent, which sounded like a warm summer wind. Hyrum didn’t reply, he just leered at her as the doors slid shut behind him. She looked familiar, and Hyrum turned his attention to her ID tag, which was hanging from her white coat, trying to place her. His face softened as he recognized the doctor.

“You’re Christina. Keith’s doctor, right?” he asked as he pressed the button which would take him to Keith’s floor. The doctor blinked, confused, as she ran her fingers through her short, blonde hair. “I mean Kazuki’s doctor.”

“Yes, I am. Do we know each other?”

Hyrum chuckled, meeting her eyes. “I’m Hyrum. I believe we talked on the phone earlier today.”

Christina’s suspicious expression melted and her face lit up with a wide smile. “So, you’re the mysterious Hyrum! I’ve been hearing so much about you. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said. Then she added, “Boy, you’re here at an odd hour.”

“Yeah. I just got off from work. Couldn't come any earlier.” He was still wearing his work clothes — dark blue scrubs — under his jacket, which wasn’t exactly allowed. But he’d been in a hurry. Hyrum yanked off his ID tag which was hanging from a lanyard around his neck and pocketed it.

“You’re a nurse?” Christina asked as she scanned Hyrum from head to toe.

“Guilty as charged,” he replied and forced a smile. “I work at the LDS Hospital.”

“Oh, that’s cool!” Christina said. “It’s a great hospital.”

“Yeah, it’s—” Hyrum’s sentence was cut short by a soft ding as the elevator stopped. “Sorry. I gotta go and see him.” He didn’t wait for a response, he just stepped out and hurried along the hallways which were far too familiar to him. He passed several rooms, most of them dark, and he briefly slowed down when he passed a nurse, keeping his eyes on the floor.

Hyrum’s heart was pounding loudly, as he finally reached Keith’s room. He yanked the door open and went inside, pulling the door shut behind him. There was a vase on the table, full of wildflowers Hyrum had brought a few days ago. They still looked fresh, so it was likely that the nurses were taking care of them. The room was dimly lit, and he could see that Keith was still awake.

“Hey,” Hyrum said as he sat down on the bed and shucked his jacket off. The steady humming and quiet beeping of the machinery were the same as always, but this time the beeping created the rhythm of impending death. The curtains were shut, not that there was anything to look at outside since it was nearly midnight.

“Hey, babe,” Keith replied hoarsely. He turned his head to meet Hyrum’s eyes and gave a weak smile. He was in a semi-sitting position to ease his breathing, but judging by the constant heaving, it wasn’t helping much. His bony fingers were wrapped around the railing of the bed, clutching it tightly. “Watcha up to?”

“Just finished a shift,” Hyrum replied, smiling and leaning in to press a soft kiss on his damp forehead. He brushed the black, greasy locks off his eyes. “How’re you holding up?”

“Peachy,” Keith said. It was the same bullshit answer he gave every time. “Did you look at my chart?”

Hyrum chuckled. “No. But I, uh, spoke with your doctor.” His voice was quiet like he was afraid he’d break something if he talked too loudly. He pressed his hand against Keith’s cheek, blotched by Kaposi’s sarcoma, brushing his fingers against the purple lesions. He was careful not to touch the nasal cannula which was carrying oxygen into his friend’s weak lungs, which were slowly filling with fluid.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I called her earlier. She told me you signed a DNR. So… I take it that you’re ready?”

“I am. It’s time,” Keith croaked. He heaved and coughed. “I’m so fucking tired, kid.” His brow was furrowed, and his chapped lips parted as he tried to fill his lungs with air.

“I know that,” Hyrum said, faking a reassuring smile. “That’s why I have everything I need with me. I knew I had to come prepared.” He kicked his shoes off, and laid down on the bed, draping an arm over Keith’s fragile frame. He was thin, and although he was covered with a thick blanket, Hyrum could feel his hip bones through it as he glided his hand across his stomach. He’d lost so much weight that even his muscles were eroded. “I still think you’re too young to die.”

Keith snorted and lifted his arm to lay it against Hyrum’s cheek. “I’m thirty-seven,” he said and managed to chuckle a bit.

“Thirty-eight.”

“Fuck. You’re right,” Keith said and coughed. “Sorry, my brain isn’t working.” His fingers were trembling.

“It’s fine,” Hyrum lied, as he blinked back tears. He knew Keith had problems with his memory caused by lesions in his brain, but it still hurt like hell every time he forgot something. Neither of them wanted to wait and see how much he would eventually forget before the illness would take him.

Hyrum felt like he was the one holding all the strings, and Keith was hanging from his last one. And it was going to snap soon. No matter how much he prayed or screamed, it didn’t help. They had been trapped in that nightmare for months, and during that time Keith had deteriorated quickly, as his body was ravaged by infections. Three weeks prior he’d lost his ability to walk when neuropathy had numbed his legs.

“I have a final request.”

“Anything,” Hyrum said quickly, and he meant it. He pressed his body as close to Keith’s as possible. As if it would somehow ease his suffering, or as if he could somehow pour his own life into his friend. Keith pulled his arm back and dropped it on the bed, sighing heavily, his eyes glued to the ceiling.

“One last kiss,” he said and laughed, but it sounded more like gravel being ground to dust, than actual laughter. “And one last song. For the road.” He wheezed, balling the sheets into his fists as a violent cough tore through his lungs.

“Of course.”

They were silent for a while. Hyrum listened to Keith’s raspy breathing and the sounds coming from the hallway – quiet talking, footsteps, creaking, wheels rolling against the floor. They didn’t manage to cover up the sounds of the machines, though. He knew that the room smelled like a hospital – death, disinfectant and bodily fluids, but he was so used to it that he didn’t notice it anymore. The only thing he noticed was the sickly sweet smell of his dying friend.

“Hey, kid…” Keith said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“How come we never got together?”

“What do you mean?” Hyrum asked softly.

“Like… Dating. All that crap.”

“I don’t know.” He knew the answer, but there was no point in telling the truth as it would only cause harm.

“You don’t love me, is that it?”

Hyrum lifted his head and glowered at his friend. “Come on, you know I do. More than anything.”

“Yeah? What about Jonathan?” There was a blaming tone to Keith’s voice.

“What of him?”

Keith scoffed and managed to roll his eyes. “He’s your fiancé. Don’t you love him?”

Hyrum pressed his head back into the mattress. He was quiet for a while, before answering, “I do. I really do. But not as much as you. You’re one of a kind, Keith.”

“You’re stupid,” he muttered, gasping for breath. “I fucked up your life.”

“No. I did it myself. And besides, you were not the only drug dealer around here. So, just… Stop that. We had fun, okay? Isn’t that enough?”

“Maybe,” Keith admitted. “Will you miss me?”

“I already miss you,” Hyrum said quietly. He tugged at the covers, and slipped under them, pressing into the body that was once so full of life. It was now hollow, and his heart ached as he slid his hand against Keith’s chest, tracing the familiar tattoos with his fingertips. He could feel his every rib protruding through his skin. All the firm muscles were now gone, eaten by his illness.

“You’re warm.”

“Yeah.” Hyrum couldn’t say the same; Keith’s skin was damp and cold. There was nothing to keep him warm anymore.

“Promise me something,” Keith said as he turned his head to press his lips against his friend’s short curls. He breathed in his scent, even though it enticed another coughing spell. Hyrum waited for the coughing to die down, before he said, “Anything.”

“Stop being a dick.”

“What does that mean?” Hyrum asked, sounding extremely offended.

“It means… that you gotta stop being a dick. Start being nice. People around you… They deserve it. Don’t be like I was. You’ll just alienate people, and you’ll end up regretting it on your deathbed. You think I chose to die alone?” Between every sentence, Keith wheezed, and the sound was like a bullet through Hyrum’s heart.

“You’re not alone. I—”

“Just promise me.”

Hyrum bit down to his tongue until he tasted blood. Then he finally replied, “I promise. I love you.”

“Good. And I love you too. You still think we’ll meet again?”

It was painful for Hyrum to hear the desperation in Keith’s voice. “Of course we will,” he assured, pressing his palm over the weakly beating heart of his friend. He didn’t dare glance at the monitor, but he knew, even without looking, that his heartbeat was too slow. Everything was shutting down; his heart, his lungs, his liver, his kidneys, his brain. Death was a certainty, but it was also the only thing they had control over anymore.

“You were such a brat when we met,” Keith said suddenly, and he arched his back as he coughed and heaved. “Feisty little kid… But I honestly didn’t know you were fifteen. I thought you were older. I’m so fucking sorry. I wouldn’t have—”

“Yeah,” Hyrum interrupted. “I know. We’ve been over this a thousand times. And like I’ve said, I don’t care about that. I care about you. It wasn’t like you forced me to lie, I did it all by myself. So, please, stop blaming yourself.” He knew exactly how much guilt Keith carried, how pissed off he was with himself, even after nine years. It was so fucking ridiculous. What was more ridiculous was the sheer amount of fights they’d had about it. Now it all seemed so petty and meaningless.

“Might be. But you  _ were  _ a brat,” Keith said and chuckled. “You know,” he continued and paused for a moment to breathe. “I loved you from the first night… I didn’t want you leaving in the morning.”

“You did  _ not _ love me from the first night.”

“Did too,” Keith insisted. “I missed you as soon as you disappeared from view.”

“You were horny. There’s a difference,” Hyrum teased, nudging his friend gently. “You can’t fall in love so easily.”

Keith chuckled.  _ "My love, you are handsome, truly handsome—the fresh green grass will be our wedding bed in the shade of cedar and cypress trees _ .”

“Are you quoting the Bible to me?” Hyrum asked and lifted his head. Keith stared at him and smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes anymore. They were void of all life.

“Yes…” he said slowly. “You love the Song of Songs. That’s all I remember, though."

“That reminds me…” Hyrum said and climbed off the bed. Keith frowned, as Hyrum nervously glanced at the door, biting his lip. “Can’t believe I forgot… And I fucking hope no one is coming here,” he muttered as he undid his pants.

“As much as I want to, I don’t think I can get it up.”

Hyrum glared at him, even though he knew it was just a joke and he sighed heavily, shaking his head. He hiked his pants down to reveal a tattoo just next to his hip bone.

_ “1 Cor 13:10…” _ Keith muttered. “What part is that?”

_ “But what is perfect will someday appear, and what isn’t perfect will then disappear,” _ Hyrum replied and quickly yanked his pants back up. “Got it a week ago. Something to remember you by.”

“That’s just because your ass forgets,” Keith said and chuckled hoarsely.

Hyrum burst out laughing as he climbed back into bed, pulling the covers over both of them, making sure he didn’t disrupt the tubes and wires running in and out of his friend. “No, I think my ass will remember you,” he said as he settled against Keith’s emaciated frame.

He snickered. “I hope so. Oh, by the way… Don’t speak shit about me at my funeral. Nothing,” he paused to heave and cough. “‘he was so kind’ shit.”

“I promise I won’t. You tired?” Hyrum asked when Keith’s eyes fell shut. He didn’t reply anymore, he just jerked his head, which Hyrum interpreted as a nod. “I wanna hold you for a while.” He tightened his embrace, and even though his other arm trapped under his body was getting numb, he didn’t want to move. “Then it’s time.”

Hyrum closed his eyes, listening to the soft beeping and the constant wheezing. He should’ve known that something was up with Keith, but he had been too busy handling his own shit to concentrate on anyone else. Deep down Hyrum knew that the only one to blame was Keith, but he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. He fell asleep, exhausted both physically and emotionally.

***

It was still dark outside when a nurse came by and woke Hyrum up. She shook his shoulder gently, and said, “You’re not supposed to sleep there.” Her voice was soft and kind, but it still pissed Hyrum off. Mostly he was angry with himself — he’d fallen asleep, and it was a stupid mistake.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “He’s dying. What does it matter anymore? Just fuck off.” He hated how the nurse looked at him with pity in her eyes, but he also knew that he had the same exact expression on his face when he dealt with the friends and relatives of a dying patient. And it wasn’t pity; it was empathy. Loyal to his promise, he added, “I’m sorry.” But he muttered it reluctantly between his teeth, leering at Keith.

“It’s fine, I understand,” she said and smiled. “Doctor Young came by an hour ago. He was looking for you.”

Hyrum felt suddenly cold and his breathing hitched at the mention of his father. “Oh, yeah?” It seemed like it was a good thing he’d fallen asleep, otherwise, he could’ve bumped into his father. The thought made Hyrum shudder. Of all places, Keith had to be admitted to the same hospital his father worked at.

“Yeah. I didn’t tell him that you were here. I was informed that he doesn’t take kindly to Mister Nakamura here,” the nurse said and went about her job, checking the IV lines and monitors. Hyrum slid off the bed slowly, breathing out in relief. A tremble ran through his body.

“I owe you one,” Hyrum said and stretched his aching back.

“I’m sorry about your boyfriend,” the nurse suddenly said.

“Oh no, Keith and I… We’re…” He sighed. “He’s just my friend.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I just assumed—”

“No, it’s fine,” Hyrum hurried to say. “He could’ve been, in another life, I guess.” He lifted his jacket from the floor and took out his phone, flipping it open with a frown. Three missed calls and ten text messages. He groaned and stuck the phone in the front pocket of his shirt to be dealt with later.

“Have you known him long?” the nurse asked.

“Too long. He’s been with me through thick and thin,” Hyrum said and laid his hand on top of Keith’s. His breathing was labored, and it sounded like water going down a drain every time he breathed in. Somehow he was still asleep. “I owe everything to him. And yet there’s not enough time to pay him back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Look, I gotta go make a call, so…” With a sigh Hyrum went to the door and slipped out of the dim room, leaving the nurse to do her job. It was just delaying the inevitable, but Hyrum needed to breathe for a moment.

As he held up his phone, he noticed that his father had called him once, and Jonathan twice. He didn’t bother reading the texts, knowing very well they were most likely from Jonathan, and instead dialed his number. The line rang for a long time, and Hyrum was just about to give up when he heard a familiar click.

_ “It’s good to finally hear from you,”  _ Jonathan said. He sounded annoyed.  _ “Tried calling earlier.” _ He still had remnants of his London accent left. Not much, but enough that it reminded Hyrum of the first time they’d met all those years earlier.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I pulled a double shift and then—”

_ “You went to see him,” _ Jonathan interrupted. He spat out the word  _ him _ like it was a nasty taste he had to get rid of.

“Are we gonna have this conversation again?” Hyrum asked and sighed heavily. He pinched his brow and stared at the floor, the smell of disinfectant stinging his nose. His head was beginning to hurt from the fear and anxiety scratching his insides.

His fiancé scoffed.  _ “They’ll call you, right? So you can come home. We live like five minutes away… It’s not like he’s dying tonight. And it’s not like you have to be there for it.” _

“No,” Hyrum replied, squeezing his eyes shut as he knew how wrong Jonathan was. “I’m not coming home yet.”

_ “Look, I’ve put up with—” _

“Put up?” Hyrum yelled as his eyes flew open. His face contorted with anger and he had to fight back the urge to scream. Then he lowered his voice as a passing doctor glared at him, “Don’t you start with that shit again. He is my friend, not a sick dog you have to put up with.” He paced back and forth, not once straying further than ten feet from Keith’s room, afraid that if he’d go too far, something bad would happen.

_ “Oh, grow up. I accepted your weird-ass relationship with him. I didn’t say a thing when you shagged him at our fucking engagement party, now did I?” _ Jonathan hissed. Hyrum froze, and he felt sick to his stomach.  _ “Do you think I enjoyed explaining to my parents why you suddenly disappeared? Didn’t think I’d find out, is that it? Well tough shit, because I did.”  _ He was practically yelling, as he knew very well Hyrum couldn’t do the same. _ “You can’t understand how difficult this is for me. You understand nothing! You keep fucking around long enough and spreading your legs to every fucking guy you meet, you can bet your sweet ass that I’m gonna change the locks and throw you on the street. Because that’s where you fucking belong! I’ve been more than patient with you.” _

Hyrum grew pale, as he backed down against a wall and sat down, afraid that his legs would give in. The hallway was empty, and he could hear the steady beeping coming from Keith’s room. He blinked back tears, the oh so familiar, sharp words of his fiancé echoing in his head. He’d heard them several times before, but they still hurt every single time — and he knew that he deserved everything.

_ “You still there?” _

“Yeah. I… I’m sorry,” Hyrum said quietly. “I made a mistake. I admit that. Don’t… Don’t throw me out.”

_ “You’re only sorry because I found out.” _ Jonathan’s voice was flat, yet full of venom.  _ “How many times did you shag him, huh? We agreed that you should always tell me. But no. You’re a twisted fuck, you know that, right? You cheat and you lie and you steal and you—” _

“Stop it. I regret what I did. I… I had just found out he was dying. I know that I should’ve told you earlier, but… I was… I was crushed. I didn’t think.” Hyrum stumbled over his words, swallowing and sniffling, trying to hold himself together.

_ “You never do. So, it was a pity shag, then? Didn’t mean a thing? Tell me it didn’t matter, and then maybe, just maybe, I can forgive you.” _

For a moment Hyrum sat in silence. His head hurt and he was exhausted. Guilt gnawed at his stomach, pushing bitter bile into his throat and mouth. He wanted to drop the subject, and he knew it had been a bad decision to call Jonathan — but he needed comfort. He needed to hear a familiar voice that wasn’t the voice of his dying friend.

“You could say that,” Hyrum finally said and straightened his legs. The floor felt cold even through his pants. “It didn’t mean a thing,” he added. And it was a lie. Lying hurt. But telling the truth would’ve been much more painful — for both of them.

Jonathan scoffed. Then he sighed heavily.  _ “I suggest you get tested.” _

“What do you mean by that?” Hyrum frowned, squeezing his phone tightly. His knuckles were sheet white and he noticed that he was gritting his teeth so harshly it hurt.

_ “You know exactly what I mean. Don’t fuck with me.” _

“I’m not  _ that _ stupid. Of course, we used protection. I’ve been dry for a long time, and you still don’t trust me.”

_ “Can you blame me? It’s impossible to trust you,” _ his fiancé said, suddenly sounding tired.  _ “I mean… After all we’ve been through. After all I’ve seen you do. After all the lies… You can’t expect me to miraculously—” _

“I don’t blame you,” Hyrum interrupted. “I just hope you’d cut me some slack. I wish you’d learn to trust me again. Just a little.”

_ “I can’t and I won’t. But I'm glad we can soon put this behind us. Then—” _

“Yeah. Whatever. Look, I have to go back soon.”

_ “He can’t wait for two minutes? You really value him over me?” _

“No, Jonathan, the last time I checked, he is  _ dying _ . He doesn’t have long. I think  _ you _ can wait for a while.”

Jonathan sighed.  _ “Fine. Go to him, then. I’m glad this shitshow is over soon. Love you.” _

“I love you too. But I gotta go,” Hyrum said quickly and hang up. He wanted to fling his phone against the wall, but instead, he just pocketed it, so he wouldn’t have the temptation of texting his fiancé and letting him know exactly how he felt. He stared down the hallway, wondering how many patients were slowly withering away on the same floor.

As the nurse left, Hyrum went back into Keith’s room and shut the door. He leaned his head against the hard surface, biting his lip and resisting the urge to hit his head against it. He wanted to bang his head into the door until he bled. It usually helped. But he knew there wasn’t a single thing in the world that could bring him solace — not even pain, or drugs could do it this time.

“How about that kiss?”

Hyrum flinched. “Fuck! You startled me.” He circled the bed, shaking his head. He sat and reached his hand to grasp Keith’s, who was chuckling quietly. “How’d you sleep?”

“It don’t matter. I’m still exhausted,” he replied softly, clearing his throat. The nurse had combed his hair, not that it really mattered, but it was still a nice gesture that they both appreciated.

Hyrum forced a smile. “Yeah.”

“Where were you?”

“Had to use the bathroom.” A small lie, which wouldn’t do any harm. “A kiss, huh?”

Keith smiled and his dark-brown eyes gleamed as he turned his head. “I haven’t kissed you in… Ah, fuck. I can’t remember.”

“It’s been a few months.”

“Oh, well. Time flies when you’re dying…”

Hyrum climbed awkwardly next to Keith and threw a leg over his hips. He kept his weight on his knees while keeping his hands against the cold railings. Keith’s eyes were eerily empty, as he fixed them on Hyrum’s. Silence fell. A stomach-twisting silence, which reeked of impending death.

“I love you,” Hyrum said softly, forcing a saccharine smile.

“I know, kid. I love you too. More than the world itself.” Keith drew a short, raspy breath.

“Nine years, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“And you still call me  _ kid _ .”

“Yeah. No reason to stop now, is there?”

“It’s stupid,” Hyrum muttered and leaned closer. He leaned his forehead against Keith’s, pressing their noses together. “You’re stupid.  _ I’m _ stupid.”

“We had a good run, though.”

“The best,” Hyrum replied hoarsely and pressed his mouth against Keith’s. His lips were dry and chapped, and his tongue tasted acrid. But nonetheless, a familiar jolt of electricity shot up Hyrum’s spine, crackling at his fingertips and making his skin tingle. It was nothing short of perfect, like always. As he pulled away, he wanted to cry, or scream, or to break something. But he just smiled wearily.

Keith closed his eyes and drew a wheezing breath. “I’m so tired.”

“I know. Remember to wait for me, okay?”

“I’ll tell God I’m waiting for someone.” He opened his eyes and tried to fix them on something, but he couldn’t. Hyrum’s stomach dropped. It was a bad sign when Keith’s eyes kept moving and moving, unable to focus on anything.

“You do that,” he said and climbed off his friend, his hands shaking violently. “One last song, huh?” He sat for a while, gnawing at his lip. Then he drew a deep breath and started to sing,  _ “Drink up, baby, stay up all night. With the things you could do, you won't but you might. The potential you'll be, that you'll never see. The promises you'll only make…” _

Hyrum glanced at the door from time to time as he sang quietly. When he finished the song, he was wiping tears off his cheeks. Keith was smiling, but it was an empty smile. It was time, Hyrum realized and jumped off the bed, his stomach in a tight and painful knot. He took his jacket, letting it fall to the floor when he was done digging through the pockets with his shaking hands. He had thought Keith could survive the night. He had thought they would have one last night. But he’d been wrong.

“Is that...” Keith whispered when Hyrum turned around, with a syringe in his hand. He made sure the vital signs monitor was muted, nervously flicking his gaze between his friend and the door. He was about to break the law in a way he never thought he would. Drugs — stealing, selling and buying them — it was all too familiar. But killing someone? It was a line Hyrum had thought he’d never cross.

“Morphine, yeah,” he replied as he wrapped his fingers around Keith’s wrist, brushing his cold skin with his thumb. “Just like I promised,” he added, glancing at the door again, his frown deep.

“Thank you.” Hyrum hummed and leaned in for another kiss, this time making it quick. As he pulled back, his friend smiled wearily, his eyes glazed. “You’re really doing this.” He sounded surprised.

“I don’t want you to suffer anymore,” Hyrum said, the words getting caught in his throat. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“I’ve been ready since the night you agreed to do this.” Hyrum paused for a moment, letting his mind wander to the memory of that desperate and painful night. He hadn’t hesitated, when he’d agreed to end Keith’s life. But now he was. Keith was dying, that was a fact and there was nothing anyone could do. His body had failed him a long time ago.

“Okay,” Hyrum finally said as he pried open the small valve on the top of the cannula on Keith’s hand, scraping his skin with his nail by accident. “I love you,” he said as he twisted the cap off from the syringe. He’d done it a thousand times, but it was the first time his hand was shaking, as he pushed the tip of the syringe into the valve. He nearly missed it and he cursed under his breath, blinking back tears and sweat.

“I love you too. Are you gonna get in trouble?” Keith sounded concerned as if the realization hit him then and there. His eyes were half-shut and he was heaving again.

Hyrum shook his head. “No, I won’t. And what it’s worth, I’d go to jail for you, if it meant that you wouldn’t have to suffer.” The other alternative was to watch as Keith died a slow and torturous death, as his lungs slowly filled with fluid. But neither of them wanted it. “I feel like I should say something smart,” he admitted. He couldn’t think of anything.

“No. Just be good.”

“Yeah. You ready?” Keith nodded. Hyrum pressed the plunger down and nabbed the syringe off. As he pocketed it, he flipped the valve shut and gave his friend one last smile. “Wait for me.” His voice faltered. He knew the morphine was enough because he’d taken everything into account. But it didn’t matter since he was still scared and unsure.

Keith’s breathing was slow and labored. But soon it stopped. First, it was for a few seconds. Then ten seconds. Then a minute. He stopped blinking and his eyes stared into nothingness. Time seemed to freeze every time his chest stopped heaving. His breathing was raspy and shallow, his chapped and pale lips parted, his eyes staying open. Patiently Hyrum counted the seconds every time his breathing ceased until he was up to three hundred and sixty-seven seconds. He could’ve kept counting, but he knew Keith would never breathe again. He got up, put on his jacket and walked out of the room. As he pushed the door shut, he glanced at the vital signs monitor. Flatline. A red light was blinking, but the monitor didn’t make a sound. It was customary with dying patients to keep them muted — no nurse wanted to listen them going off all hours of the day. The job was hard enough without the sounds. And with a patient like Keith — signed DNR and the certainty of death — they were always muted. From the moment they signed the papers.

Hyrum barely managed to get himself into a bathroom, before he threw up. He leaned against the wall with his hands as his stomach emptied itself forcefully, the bile burning in his nose and throat. Keith had been the only thing keeping him from relapsing again. But now everything felt meaningless. Time stood still, as Hyrum dug through his pockets and pulled out a small plastic bag full of colorful pills. His mouth was still stinging, but he took two pills and shoved them between his lips.

He didn’t wish to forget. He wanted to tear the sorrow and guilt from his bones, no matter what it took. Deep inside he knew he wasn’t a killer, and even though he knew that Keith had wanted to die, it didn’t ease his guilt. And like always, a plan was already forming in his head. A plan to rid himself of the pain.

Trying not to throw up again, Hyrum sat down on the floor, leaning his head against the hard surface of the cubicle, staring at his hands. The small nicks and open wounds on his knuckles were a grim reminder of the night before. His teeth had scraped the skin off, leaving behind sore wounds, inflamed by the bile which had flowed down his hand as he’d stuck his fingers into his throat again and again.

Hyrum pulled out his phone and flipped it open. He hesitated, before writing a short text;  _ He’s gone. I wanna forget like I said. _ After a few minutes, he got a reply.

_ I’ll have everything ready in ten. You sure you wanna go down this road again? _

_ I’m sure, _ Hyrum wrote back.  _ Book the tickets to Ibiza. I’ll pay you back as soon as I get there. _

_ Very well then. Wire me the usual amount. Next week you’ll forget all about him, cos you’ll be busy doing every guy within a ten-mile radius. _

Hyrum didn’t bother replying. He pocketed his phone and knew that Jonathan would be pissed when he realized that his fiancé was gone yet again. But running away was the only valid thing Hyrum could come up with. No matter how much money he’d have to spend, he had to forget about what he had done. Otherwise, he would die by his own hand — and it just wasn’t something Keith would ever accept. He was dead, yes, but for Hyrum, there was only one thing he could do — keep his promises.

The guilt ran deeper than just the fact that he’d killed Keith. If not for Hyrum, Keith would be alive. Because without him, Keith would’ve been able to pay for his expensive medications. But instead, he’d used every last penny to get Hyrum into rehab and keeping him there long enough for him to get sober again. It hadn’t been enough — after Hyrum had found out about the staggering amount of money Keith had spent on him, he’d relapsed and nearly died. The guilt he’d been carrying for years was amplified by the constant support he got from Keith. But then again, he had always blamed himself for Hyrum’s addiction.

Hyrum sighed and pinched his brow, tapping the floor with his fingers. He was glad that it was night — no one would bother him. But he had to leave the hospital soon. His legs felt weak as he pushed himself upright. The room spun around him, and his heart began to pick up the pace as the ecstasy started to pump in his veins. It felt good, and it eased the pain a notch. But not enough.

Nothing was ever enough. No amount of drugs, money, sex or alcohol could ever make him better. It hadn’t stopped him from trying — year after year, pill after pill, bottle after bottle. It was a miracle, that he was still alive and well. At that moment Hyrum was sure he would die within the next few weeks. If not from the drugs, or booze, then Jonathan would surely kill him when he got back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I'd like to thank someone, who gave me a lot of pointers about dying (they're a practical nurse, so they've seen their share of death), and without them I wouldn't have been able to write this.
> 
> This chapter was hard to write. Now, I've never lost anyone to AIDS, but I've kept everything as realistic as possible - the lesions in someone's brain as they're in the late stages, that's real. Kaposi's sarcoma is also common, as well as fluid buildup in the lungs. Neuropathy is also something that happens with AIDS patients.
> 
> I've literally read hundreds of pages, watched a fuckton of movies/documentaries/series depicting HIV/AIDS patients, epidemic, etc. I'm extremely interested in the subject and I've talked with people who worked in Finland when HIV first landed here. The history surrounding HIV/AIDS is really harrowing and it breaks my heart. It really does.
> 
> There's a certain stigma to people with HIV, but stay safe people, and get tested. There's no shame in that.
> 
> And thank you for reading. <3 I hope you'll leave a comment or a Kudos. They always make my day.  
You can always message me via Tumblr (wolfnotadevil) if you don't feel comfortable leaving a public comment! xoxo
> 
> \- Toivo


	11. Run back to your psycho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, my lovely readers~  
I hope you enjoy this chapter!

The uncontrollable downward spiral of drugs, booze, and mindless sex didn’t take Hyrum’s thoughts away from Jacob. It didn’t help him deal with his longing, much like his spiraling hadn’t helped him deal with Keith’s death. Brooke noticed the spiral, and she tried to stop it, but Hyrum was reluctant, snappy and downright hostile. He refused to tell her details, ambiguously muttering something about some guy. With Hyrum, it was always some guy, it seemed like. He turned inwards, keeping to himself and trying desperately to forget.

Hyrum genuinely thought he was worthless. John’s words echoed in his head, and no matter how much he drank, he couldn’t forget the pain they’d caused. And every moment he spent throwing up and regretting everything, the memory of him stepping out of Wolf’s Den played on a loop in his head. The regret burned worse than the bile, and he carried it with him everywhere he went.

The only time he could fall into blissful oblivion of not remembering anything was when he was playing with fire — taking too much opiates to knock himself fully unconscious — but it was starting to become dangerous. His life was hanging on a worn thread during those hours of lying still, his breathing ceasing into near-nothingness, his heart beating too slowly. And when he finally came to, he was frustrated to notice that he was still alive. Not having the guts to end his life, he kept toying with it. Bending it, waiting for it to snap like a dry branch. But it never did; his life was like a willow, always bending and bending, no matter how much he pushed. It was bordering on annoying.

After a month-long bender and a series of fuck ups, which included a few broken windows and a small fire, Brooke had finally had enough of Hyrum’s antics. She’d known him long enough to understand that he was deliberately trying to harm himself beyond salvation. So while he slept, she took everything. His drugs, his booze — every little pill and vial she could find. The amount of drugs was staggering, and Brooke knew that someone was supplying him. Who, or how, she didn’t know, but she was going to find out. And if it came to it, she would throw them out. The Whitetails didn’t need drug peddlers — or drug users for that matter.

Most of the small cells in the county jail had been modified into bedrooms, and Hyrum had one of them. It was small and bare, so it didn’t take long for Brooke to go over it, including searching drugs from under his mattress. When she was sure she’d collected everything, she took them to the sickbay. Everything was important, and she was pissed that someone would waste valuable resources just to get high. She understood why, but she was still pissed.

But not as pissed as Hyrum as he woke up to realize that he couldn’t find his stashes. All of them were gone. After a long bender he had no fucks to give — he wanted to get high, he wanted to be rid of the memories that haunted him, and most of all he wanted to prevent the withdrawal from setting in. It was painful, and it was horrible.

He made his way into the cell block which had been transformed into a canteen — it had a lot of tables scattered around and a large, rectangular one in the far end which had all the utensils and plates.

“What the fuck did you do?” he screamed, marching towards Brooke, his eyes blazing with anger and his voice echoing in the cell block. The sunlight pouring in from the windows high up on the wall was so bright, that Hyrum was squinting. There wasn’t a lot he could do to Brooke, as she was taller and a lot stronger than he was, but he still seriously considered hopping over the table between them and hitting her. She should know better than to fuck with someone’s possessions.

“Saved you from yourself,” Brooke replied calmly, even though she could feel the annoyed glares on her back. The Whitetails were so done with drama — and Hyrum was the fucking queen of all drama. “You gotta stop before you end up dead.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

Brooke stood up, pushing her chair back; it scraped the concrete floor harshly. She pointed at the door, and her stern voice filled the cell block when she said, “Then take a gun, walk outside and shoot your brains out.” Her tone was ice cold.

An awkward silence fell. Hyrum’s lips parted and he started to shake, muttering something incoherent. Brooke kept her cool and she simply stared down to her friend, watching as his glazed eyes darted back and forth, looking for sympathy. He received none and he quickly realized it. His blown-out pupils left only a harrowingly thin line of green around them as he flicked them back to his friend.

“If you wanna die, you can go and finish the goddamn job. But if you’re intent on torturing yourself, do it somewhere else. We need help and manpower. What we don’t need is a fucking junkie.” Yes, Hyrum had helped around, a lot actually, but it just wasn’t enough considering the drama he managed to cause every single week.

Hyrum’s shoulders jerked up and he started to sob. Brooke folded her arms, noticing that she had dried paint spotting her black skin. She started to scrape it off with her nails, seemingly unfazed by his crying. The truth was that she felt like shit, but she knew better than to coddle and enable an addict. It was better for everyone if she told her friend when enough was enough — even if it would hurt them both in the process.

“Are you done?” she asked after a few minutes, during which everyone else except one person left them alone. No one wanted to see Brooke angry, and no one was really interested in Hyrum’s tantrums anymore.

“Yeah,” he sniffled, not bothering to wipe his face.

“You’re pathetic and—”

“Brooke, come on, stop it,” a soft voice said behind Hyrum. He glanced over his shoulder, his cheeks red and wet, only to meet Joey’s warm smile. It comforted him a bit. “That’s going too far.”

“It’s really not,” Brooke said sternly. “I’ve seen this shit unfolding way too many times. I’m just doing what I’ve been instructed to do. We tried coddling him before. I don’t even wanna think about what happened back then.” She shot a frustrated look in Joey’s direction, but she knew that she was only trying to help.

Joey sighed, hesitant. She didn’t know Hyrum well enough to know what was going on, but she knew that not all addicts needed tough love. Finally, she caved in and took some distance, before pulling up a chair, her brow furrowed with worry. She trusted that Brooke really knew what she was doing. Hyrum looked so beaten with his head hanging, his shoulders tense and his back slightly arched forward.

“Back to your chiding, boy,” Brooke continued. “You’re pathetic. You’re acting irresponsibly. I get it, life’s hard. But you don’t see us fucking everything up. You’re not special, Hyrum. You are hurting the people around you, do you understand?” She waited for him to nod, but he didn’t move a muscle. “If you keep acting like this, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave. You will not be welcome here if you don’t stop spiraling. The world ended for everyone, not just for you. Now go shower and then come back.”

“I—”

“No. Go wash up and come back. End of discussion.” Brooke’s voice was a notch warmer, but she still kept the stern edge to it, so her friend wouldn’t argue.

Hyrum sighed heavily, nodded and turned around, before leaving and disappearing behind a corner. Not once did he lift his head or say anything. It was a good sign, and Brooke breathed out in relief. Her shoulders fell and she realized just how tense she’d been.

“Jesus that kid,” she said and sat down, rolling her shoulders and rubbing her neck. “I’ve known him for years. And this is the worst I’ve seen him.”

“What happened?”

“I think it’s more like who happened than what. He kinda told me what he was doing all this time, but… He didn’t tell me everything. I have no idea who did this to him. But when I find out, I’ll fuckin’ kill them. He’s a wreck.”

Joey stood and walked up to Brooke. She laid her hands on her shoulders and rubbed small circles with her thumbs. She said softly, “He’s gonna be fine.” Her tone was warm and there wasn’t a shred of doubt in it.

“I sure hope so.”

“I was thinking…” Joey said, blushing. She was glad that Brooke couldn’t see her. “He’s gonna have to find someone else to screw. I don’t… like that you’re doing him. It’s not smart, given how fucked up he is at the moment. And—”

“Are you trying to say you wanna be exclusive?” Brooke interrupted, raising a brow. She’d been fooling around with Joey for a while, and even though it had been all light-hearted, she really cared for the former Deputy. More than she was ready to admit to anyone.

“Yeah.” It’s all Joey managed to say, before Brooke jumped up and whisked around, with a big smile plastered on her face. She hugged her, rubbing the small of her back and chuckling softly.

“You should’ve said something earlier.”

“I didn’t wish to come between you two,” Joey admitted.

“Yeah, well, I guess it would be better if someone  _ would  _ come between us sometimes. I really do like you, Joey.”

“I like you too.” It was too early to say love, so they’d settled with like. Even though both of them knew perfectly well what they meant. But that was exactly the reason they didn’t have to say it out loud.

When Hyrum returned, he looked a bit better, but now his cheeks were tinted with the red hue of shame. He muttered his apologies as he sat down, folding his arms to protect himself from Brooke’s harsh words. Never had he looked more like a beaten dog, as the short, wet strands framed his face, his eyes wide. He looked downright sick; his skin was pale and he had barely been eating during the past week or so. He’d eaten only if Brooke caught him at a good moment, and managed to shove a plate in front of his face before he bolted.

“You know you gotta work on this…” Brooke waved her hand, her other one resting on Joey’s thigh. “This thing. Everything. You’re sick.”

“I know,” Hyrum replied quietly. He drew a shuddering breath and added, “I gotta talk with you.”

“Are you ready to tell me the rest, then?”

“I am. I need to get this off my chest.” The knowledge of his betrayal hung over him like a cloud, ready to shower him with lightning and thunder. No amount of praying could ever help, and he felt like he could never be forgiven. What he had done — saving Jacob, and treating him like the human being he was — now felt wrong and he was full of guilt. No matter how guilty he felt he didn’t regret saving the Herald.

“Okay,” Brooke said and stood, leaning in to give a peck on Joey’s lips. They both chuckled, making Hyrum feel extremely left out. The wiring in his brain was frayed, so in that moment he was convinced that no one gave two shits about him. It would pass, and he kind of knew it, but it didn’t ease the nasty feeling he had in the pit of his stomach and the paranoia scraping his throat.

“You coming?” Brooke asked as she circled the table, touching Hyrum’s shoulder lightly. She was skeptical and on edge; addicts couldn’t be trusted and she had learned that the hard way. They were all sweet smiles, kind words, and meek demeanor until they needed more. And nothing was ever enough. She’d seen it in Hyrum, and she’d seen it in Keith. And after everything, she was sure that death was the only cure for some addicts — like it had been for Keith.

“Yeah,” he said and stood. He followed Brooke in silence, keeping his eyes on the concrete floor, too ashamed to even look at his friend. His boots were dusty and worn, but he couldn’t care less.

Brooke led him to the backyard, digging up a pack of cigarettes she’d confiscated earlier from Wheaty, ignoring the NO SMOKING sign on the wall. She handed the pack to Hyrum, along with a lighter, and he took them eagerly, parking a cigarette between his lips with a shaking hand. The flint clicked and sprayed small sparks, but it didn’t produce a flame. Brooke waited patiently until Hyrum had managed to light up his cigarette. He sat down on the small steps and pocketed the lighter, sighing heavily and staring at the pale-blue morning sky.

“Spill the beans.”

“You gotta promise me that you won’t freak out, or do anything rash. You can’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you. No matter how you might feel about it, you need to keep your mouth shut.” He sighed again, rubbing his cheek with his free hand. He had a small stubble and it annoyed him.

Brooke swallowed and folded her arms. “You’re scaring me.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. But… The guy I was stuck with?” Hyrum turned his eyes to his friend, taking a long drag from the cigarette, nearly burning his fingers because of it. He stayed silent for a moment, before saying quietly, “It was Jacob.”

“Jacob who?” Brooke asked, her voice suddenly several degrees colder.

The bitter smoke swirled around Hyrum, as he replied, “Jacob Seed.”

Shivers ran down Brooke’s spine and she felt like she’d been doused in cold water. She staggered backward, bumping against the chain-link fence dividing the small backyard into two parts, and lifted a hand over her mouth. She mumbled a quiet, “No.” Her skin was damp with sweat and her eyes wide. She looked like she was going to throw up.

“Yes. He’s alive.”

“No!” Brooke screamed, balling her hands into fists, her chest rising rapidly under her t-shirt. “He’s dead! The Deputy killed him!”

“Lower your voice,” Hyrum pleaded. Suddenly he realized it had been a mistake to tell her. After all, she didn’t know what Jacob was truly like. “I… I hate to admit it, but I saved his life, Brooke. He’s not who we thought he was.”

“You and your fucking obsessions with being kind! Keith is dead. It’s your fault, and it doesn’t matter that you’re still obeying his dying wish. He’s not coming back, no matter how guilty you feel. So cut the fucking act. You bastard. What the fuck is wrong with you?” She wasn’t yelling, instead, she was hissing and spitting out her words. She wanted to grab Hyrum by his hair and drag him across the yard and shoot him. “Of all the hare-brained things you’ve done, this takes the fucking cake!”

“Stop that.”

“You fucking idiot. Was it true? That you’re starting to have feelings for  _ him _ ? That fucking psychopath? Is it? The kisses… Were they true? How is that even possible? Have you forgotten what he did to us? Don’t say he played that fucking song to you.”

Hyrum took a drag and kept the smoke inside his lungs for several seconds before exhaling forcefully. He watched as the smoke rose towards the sky and crinkled his nose, wondering how the hell he’d managed to fuck everything up.

“Everything is true. I know it makes no sense, but all I want is to go back to him. My heart is there, Brooke. I misplaced it. He was civil. He was  _ kind _ . I misjudged him before. It was wrong of me.”

“Cut the crap and stop romanticizing everything. Like always, you’re just mixing desire with love.”

“We didn’t have sex,” he muttered between his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. He suddenly felt nauseous.

“Yeah, right,” Brooke snapped. “You fuck anything that moves.” She bit her tongue. She’d crossed a line and she knew it. But Jacob fucking Seed was alive, all thanks to Hyrum. It was difficult to understand that he’d been able to betray everyone so easily. “I hope he was a good fucking lay.”

Hyrum jumped up and screamed, “I didn’t fuck him!” His voice echoed in the yard and Brooke took a step back as she noticed the pain and hatred in his eyes. She was scared of her friend for the first time in years. “I’m not that person anymore!” Hyrum knew he was contradicting his own behavior from the past month with his words, but the situation was far from normal, so he felt his actions were justified.

“I can’t even look at you without feeling sick to my stomach.”

_ “If any of you have never sinned, then go ahead and throw the first stone,” _ Hyrum said, his voice wavering. “You don’t know him. I—”

“You fucking idiot. You need to leave.”

“No. I—”

“You gotta leave before I tell everyone. You have until tomorrow night. I can’t have you around here.”

“I… I c-can’t…” Hyrum stuttered, and let the half-smoked cigarette fall from his hand. He could feel his legs giving in and he fell to his knees, his heart thudding in his ears. It felt like his world came crumbling down at that moment, and he regretted ever leaving Wolf’s Den.

“Run back to your psycho,” Brooke said and pushed past him. “I hope you’ll both die a slow and painful death. You deserve it.”

***

Jacob corrected the strap of his rifle and hopped over a large, fallen pine tree. He continued walking further away from the Wolf’s Den, his mind wandering and his heart aching. It had been nearly a month and a half since Hyrum had left — and time hadn’t eased the pain he was feeling. If possible, it had only gotten worse. It was a lukewarm August, and the sweltering heat of July that had preceded it was already gone. The trees were still bright green and there was only a subtle touch of orange visible higher in the mountains.

There was a constant chirping and shuffling in the forest around him — the animals had returned; the birds had been first, then squirrels and other small animals. A few weeks prior Jacob had spotted the first deer and he’d been ecstatic. It had been a while since he’d last had the chance to hunt. And that was exactly what he was doing. First, he had to find a deer, though. He was planning on making stew for his family — including Rook. He cringed.

As Rook and Joseph planned the next move and occasionally looted the bunkers and houses scattered all over Whitetail Mountains so they could blast through the collapsed Ancient Bison tunnel, Jacob kept his distance. Joseph was understanding, and he kept assuring his older brother that no matter what happened, they wouldn’t leave before Hyrum came back. Joseph’s plan included relocating, if possible, outside Hope County. He wanted to return back to the church they’d build all those years ago when they had arrived in Montana — he kept talking about it nearly every day. Especially to Rook, describing the beautiful scenery, the warm summers, and the long, bleak winters. The church was at their old compound, and it was highly likely that the large, old house was still standing there, waiting for the Seeds to return. What happened to the guards stationed there, Joseph couldn’t say.

Jacob had nearly lost his faith a week prior, as he’d been plagued by nightmares week after week, and they wouldn’t just let up, no matter what he did. Joseph had finally caved in and told that Hyrum was indeed coming back — he’d seen it in his visions. He couldn’t say when, but he knew it was before winter because there wasn’t a single snowflake to be seen in his visions. But it had gotten cold, so he was assuming it was sometime during the autumn before leaves would change color.

It had given Jacob enough strength to get through the days, which seemed so long and burdensome. He’d given up his duties for a while, with Joseph’s blessing, and he was thankful that his brother had changed. Even if it was just temporary. He couldn't concentrate on anything, really, and more often than not he took Hyrum's guitar to play a song or two. Like it would somehow protect the weak bond between them, which had stretched so thin that is scared him.

John was John, and there was something that he was hiding from his brothers. Jacob wasn’t interested, though; he was too tired of his littlest brother’s antics and his tantrums. John and Rook still didn’t get along, and tearing them off each other’s throats was tiring. Especially when Joseph was reluctant in intervening because he had no fucking clue whose side he should take. It annoyed John, but Rook had understood — he’d been more than understanding and he’d even began to talk to Jacob on occasion without prompting. The quiet, kind words they exchanged over a meal, or a cup of coffee were the foundation they were trying to lay for their relationship. They both loved Joseph, so it was only natural that they gravitated towards each other. Even though Rook was startled every time Jacob made a sudden move, there was a small glimmer of trust between them.

For a long time, Jacob had been split in two, but now he was being put back together. He didn’t blame Joseph for it, even though he’d broken him in a way, and doomed him to die alone just to fulfill a prophecy. But it was easier to be sewn back together when no one held power over him. There was no war, no fighting, no one to kill — the natural order had been restored and the whole world was more balanced every day, and Jacob was glad that it was. He was now acquainted with Jacob Seed — something he’d thought previously to be impossible, and he’d been starting to push the Herald Jacob away. Not fully, but far enough so he could breathe and get in touch with the Jacob he once was before the war had destroyed him.

A soft rustle made him freeze mid-step, and he quickly swung his high-caliber hunting rifle from his back and pointed it towards the sound, steadying his stance. It came from a thickly wooded area, with old, tall pine trees, thin aspens and several shrubs scattered around. He crept closer, his eyes stinging as he didn’t dare to blink. It wasn’t an animal — the footsteps were too heavy, the rustling too loud. A branch snapped and Jacob called out, “Whoever you are, come towards me with your hands up. I’m not afraid to shoot.”

“Yeah, how about you don’t shoot me!” a familiar voice replied and bellowing laughter echoed in the forest.

“Theodore, what the hell?” Jacob sighed and lowered his gun, rolling his tense shoulders. Theodore stepped into view behind a large pine tree, scratching his cheek just next to his short beard and grinning wildly. Jacob knew that he was patrolling around the Wolf’s Den, but he hadn’t expected to run into him so quickly. “I could’ve shot you.”

“Didn’t mean to scare ya. Watcha doing?”

“Hunting.”

“Oh, boy,” the Chosen said and lifted his hands. “Don’t hunt me down, big bad wolf.” He smirked, as the old nickname for his friend slipped out by accident. Jacob burst into peals of laughter and he had to lean against his thighs to keep himself upright. Theodore folded his arms across his broad chest and chuckled. It had been a long time since he’d seen his old friend laugh so freely — and it made him happy. Nothing was better than seeing him relaxed and having fun, even if it was just for a moment.

“You and your big mouth," Jacob chuckled and ran his fingers through his hair. It had grown a bit too long, but John had cut it and made it look really good. It had been years since he’d had a full head of hair, but he was kind of liking it. Even Rook had complimented him.

“Oh, yeah?” Theodore asked. His smirk melted into a soft smile and something flashed in his brown eyes. He stepped closer, measuring Jacob. “You need a reminder of just how big my mouth is?” he asked, his voice huskier than just a moment ago. Jacob visibly tensed and his eyes widened, the strikingly pure blue color in them glittering in the bright sunlight. His breathing quickly grew heavier as he tried to figure out what to say.

“Are you… Flirting with me right now?” he finally asked, shifting his weight nervously. He’d lost his edge, and he knew it. But he also knew that Theodore was like family — they’d both been in Iraq during the First Gulf War — so being nervous and vulnerable around him wasn’t anything new. With Theodore, he'd always felt safe. Even with bullets whizzing past their heads, he'd known that he was safe from everything. The only thing he had needed was Theodore’s warm hand over his own, and he’d been at peace.

“Maybe I am,” Theodore replied and dropped his arms. They hung on his sides awkwardly and he blushed just the tiniest bit. “I mean… It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He wiped his sweaty hands against his black cargo trousers, and his mouth was suddenly dry. His eyes flicked down and he grinned again. Flirting with Jacob made him always nervous — mostly because he held so much power that it was bordering on terrifying. The angry, snappy kid had grown into a powerful and dangerous man. His tongue was as sharp as ever, and he was still defying everything and everyone — but he’d grown out of his youthful nervousness. Fear didn’t accentuate his life anymore.

Jacob averted his gaze and swallowed. “Yeah. It has.”

“So?”

“What?”

“You want me to suck you off?”

“I… I, uh…” Jacob stared at his dusty boots and shrugged. The thought fascinated him like it always did — and not just because he was desperately in need of a release — but because he knew just how  _ good _ Theodore was. His body had already agreed without his permission; he was growing hard, and it was extremely awkward for him. Clearly his dick was craving for Theodore’s tongue and mouth more than he was.

Suddenly Theodore was there, his hands creeping along Jacob’s jacket-shrouded arms, his lips against his forehead and his rough beard tickling his friend. With a soft, deep voice he said, “I miss you.” He intertwined his fingers with Jacob’s and hummed deeply.

“You’ve been with us for a month, Teddy. How can you miss me?” Jacob asked quietly and lifted his gaze. The Chosen grinned and inched closer until he could grind his hips against Jacob’s. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice breathy and heavy with lust.

“I know you like it,” Theodore replied, his hand traveling down Jacob’s stomach, his fingers slipping under his belt. “I know you like that kid, and I don’t blame ya. He’s amazing, he truly is. It’s just… I want you. Now.” He pressed his palm against Jacob’s crotch and he snickered as he felt the familiar hardness under his hand. “Oh, didn’t expect you to be this quick.”

“It’s… complicated with him.”

“I know. It’s just a blowjob. You know I care about you, and you care about me. We’ve seen all kinds of shit together, haven’t we? Besides, this hasn’t broken any rules before. Would it break some now?”

“No,” Jacob replied truthfully. He whimpered, as Theodore rubbed his hand against his dick, sending ripples of pleasure down his back. His knees nearly gave in, when the Chosen unzipped his pants and slipped his hand inside. It barely fit through the opening, but he managed to squeeze in. His fingers fumbled, brushing forcefully against Jacob’s dick.

“Lemme do it, then.”

The Herald bit his tongue and took the rifle from his shoulder, letting it fall to the forest floor with a soft thud. He succumbed to lust and nodded, making Theodore chuckle. Jacob watched as he dropped to his knees and quickly unbuckled his belt. It was embarrassing how hard he was — not to mention the thick precum trickling out, soaking into his boxers. He was a bit unsure, but there was no reason to be, and he knew it. They’d done it a hundred times, and it had always been good. More than good. Excellent, Jacob dared to claim.

His thigh holster made it a bit difficult to lower his pants, but Theodore managed to hike them down enough. He yanked the boxers down, moaning as he hungrily grabbed Jacob’s dick, knowing very well how dirty the situation was. Even though he knew their positions had nothing to do with the act itself, it still made him crazy to think that the man who was four years younger than him, was his boss — and his word was the law. Or, at least it had been before the Collapse. To Theodore, it would always be the law, though. He owed his life to Jacob — something he was trying to pay back by working hard, and well, occasionally doing some favors of the sexual nature.

“You ready?” Theodore asked, teasingly moving his hand along the length, rubbing his thumb against the slit. His mouth began to water as he glanced at the feverishly hot dick in his hand.

“Mmh,” Jacob replied, his eyes closed. His hands found their familiar places; both resting against Theodore’s shaved head. He moaned and his hips jerked as Theodore took his dick into his mouth, his tongue drawing circles around the tip, his other hand cupping his balls. Jacob resisted the urge to push into the wet mouth enveloping his dick, instead, he focused on the burning sensation in his stomach as pleasure hooked his insides and pulled them towards his chest.

Theodore circled his index finger and thumb around the base before he began to bob his head back and forth, his other hand focusing solely on Jacob’s balls, massaging them roughly. He paused for a moment to press his tongue against the opening of the urethra, enjoying the slightly bitter taste of the warm precum. He pulled his head back and ran his tongue along the length, sliding over the thick veins, keeping a close eye on Jacob’s expression; his lips were parted and he was panting, biting back loud moans. Theodore would’ve chuckled if his mouth hadn’t been full; after all those years, Jacob was still shy with his voice. It was adorable and arousing at the same time.

The Herald suddenly gasped and his back arched, his nails digging into Theodore’s scalp. He was close already, and it was embarrassing. Then again, it had been a while since he’d even jerked off — it wasn’t exactly possible when Rook was making his brother whine every single night. Jacob didn’t know, nor did he want to know the details, but the sounds Joseph made were extremely distracting and awkward.

He couldn’t help himself; his hips jerked again, but this time his dick sank fully into Theodore’s mouth, making him gag, but he managed to keep his cool. Theodore moved his hands against Jacob’s ass, causing him to flinch as he dug his nails into his flesh, encouraging the Herald to fuck his mouth by doing so.

And that’s exactly what Jacob did — he began to roll his hips back and forth. First slowly, but he quickly lost his self-control and started to rut into Theodore’s mouth. He whined every time he felt teeth grazing the tender skin, but the didn’t complain. Actually, he quite enjoyed the slight pain, and it kept sending trembles down his thighs. The pleasure was building up, and Jacob had to focus so his mind wouldn’t stray to Hyrum. It wasn’t okay to think about him when his dick was inside someone else’s mouth. It was cheating, plain and simple.

“Ah, fuck,” he hissed and pulled nearly fully out when the warm, familiar feeling spread from his groin to his stomach. “I’m gonna—” He moaned loudly, ashamed of the obnoxious sound, and bucked his hips harshly forward, suddenly filling Theodore’s mouth with cum. Theodore sucked his dick forcefully, swallowing as much as he could, while moving his hand to wrap his fingers around it, milking every last drop into his mouth. His eyes were watering, and he was fighting back the urge to gag as the viscous cum got stuck to the roof of his mouth. Jacob was shivering and he lifted a hand to cover his eyes, as a series of small whimpers escaped his throat. He was flushed and sweaty when Theodore pulled his head back, holding onto the soldier’s flagging erection.

“Don’t you jack off?” he asked, his breathing ragged and his black t-shirt soaked with sweat under his jacket. Usually, he had to make an actual effort to make Jacob cum, but now he’d barely even gotten started. He'd been expecting a long blowjob, like usual, and now he was a bit disappointed that it had been so brief. After all, he loved giving head.

“I do,” Jacob muttered. “Haven’t just had a chance lately.”

“Oh, yeah. It must be a bit… Difficult when those two are fucking.”

“Can you  _ not _ talk about my brother when you’re holding my dick?”

Theodore laughed but didn’t let go. He tightened his grip and murmured, “Well, it turns  _ me _ on to hear them…” Jacob winced and dropped his hand, finally opening his eyes and meeting the Chosen’s hungry gaze.

“Still. It’s  _ Joseph _ .” He sounded downright disgusted and his nose crinkled.

“He’s a good lookin’ man. I wish  _ I _ was the one sucking his dick, not—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Jacob barked. “Lust after him all you want, but don’t make me listen to your fantasies.”

“Rook is a handsome man also,” Theodore said teasingly, subtly moving his hand along Jacob’s dick. “You can’t deny it. He’s an annoying fuck, but what I wouldn’t do to get his lips around my dick. Although, I would like to fuck him if I’m being perfectly honest. You never allowed me to do that.”

“No, and I’m not planning on letting you get anywhere near my ass. No one is getting in, and you know it.”

Theodore laughed. “It’s too bad both of us wanna be on top. But… I’d let you fuck me.”

“That’s not happening either.”

“Of course it’s not,” the Chosen said, sounding a bit annoyed. “It’s just fucking, though. I don't get why you're so prudish,” he continued and let go of Jacob’s dick. “I mean… Why is this okay, but nothing else is? Why blowjobs aren't breaking any of Joseph's rules?"

“Because sex is intimate. It's between two people who love each other. Blowjobs and handjobs, they’re not intimate. They're just for pleasure. Besides… We're merely  _ bending _ his rules.  _ Fornicating _ isn't allowed, and it means intercourse out of wedlock. This isn't that. And I don’t  _ fuck _ anyone. I—”

“Yeah, yeah, you make  _ looove _ ,” Theodore said, stretching the word until frustration flashed across Jacob’s face. “Sorry. I’m just horny, and I need to get laid. The one guy I’d let fuck me isn’t warming up to the idea, just because he doesn’t love me… That winds me up a bit if I’m being honest. I hope you understand.”

“I appreciate your honesty, Teddy.” Jacob’s voice was soft. “And I do understand. But I… I can’t do this anymore.” He took a step back and pulled his pants up, averting his eyes. “I feel guilty.” There was a slight reddish tint to his cheeks and he tried hard not to sound pathetic.

“About?” Theodore asked and stood, wincing at the throbbing pain in his knees. He wasn’t twenty, or even thirty anymore. Pulling a fake smile, he crossed his arms, ignoring his dick pushing against his pants. Twenty or not, his dick sure as hell didn't know, or care about how old he was.

“This,” Jacob replied and waved his hand ambiguously. “I mean… Joseph’s seen visions of Hyrum. I don’t know if I’m a fool or not to pine after him, but… Look, you’re my oldest friend.” He met Theodore’s eyes and smiled wearily. “I’d rather wait for him than do this again. I’m sorry, but I just can’t. It feels like I'm cheating. I… We… Fuck. It’s hard to explain.”

“After Miller, I thought you’d never find anyone… So, I get it. But I do hope you two are gonna be happy, and that’s he’s worth it. You deserve to be happy. I haven’t seen the Herald Jacob during this month at all. Something has changed.” He smiled. “It’s good. I’ve missed just Jacob. He was my friend. My everything.” He would never admit it out loud how much pain he felt every time he saw the scars covering Jacob’s skin. Seeing them hurt, and it hurt so fucking much that it felt like his heart was breaking into pieces.

Jacob choked and cleared his throat, his eyes prickling. “I was ready to die. And when I didn’t, I… I dunno. Things just got weird when I was suddenly alive and this… This fucking kid had saved me and was endlessly kind to me, despite everything. I had to learn what Jacob Seed is like, and it was difficult. That makes no sense, but—”

“It does, actually. The same thing happened when you came back from war. Happened with me too,” Theodore said. He sighed. “I mean, being a soldier is your whole darn life and when it’s taken away from you… Well, everything becomes meaningless in a way."

“I still have nightmares.” Jacob pinched his brow and chuckled nervously. “It's fucked up.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No. Definitely not.”

Theodore nodded and stepped closer, before throwing his arms around Jacob and pulling him into a tight hug. They’d both seen the horrors of war, they’d both suffered after being thrown into the streets and even though their paths had taken years to cross again, when they had, it had been like nothing had changed between them. From the first night onwards, Theodore had been Jacob's right hand regarding the Project and also outside of it.

It was weird, and Jacob knew it, but Theodore was kind of like a brother to him. He cared for the man and even loved him. Not romantically, though. It was a warm, lapping feeling inside his chest, and it wasn’t like he would let just about anyone close — Theodore was the first person he’d truly felt close with after Miller. Jacob shuddered and pressed his face against Theodore’s shoulder. There was no one else he'd rather show his vulnerability than him. Well, Hyrum being the only obvious exception. Someday he'd have to tell the kid about Miller. The whole fucking, nasty, twisted truth. And it scared him. There was no way Hyrum could ever accept the fact that he’d killed his lover.

“Are you thinking about him?" The question was a double-edged sword.

“Yeah,” Jacob replied, forcing his voice steady. He was thinking both Miller and Hyrum — the only two men he'd wanted to be with during his nearly fifty years of existence.

“Okay. Just… Breathe. Alright? It will pass. Focus on something else,” Theodore said, rubbing his hand against Jacob’s shoulder blades, feeling his chest heave against his own. "I know it's hard. Do you wanna go hunting together? When you've caught your breath, that is, old man."

"You're older than me," Jacob laughed. Theodore snickered and kissed the top of his head. When no one could see them, they would always share hugs and affection. It wasn't like they could get it from anywhere else without risking their authority or position within Eden's Gate. Theodore knew that the Seeds could make the whole world end all over again — it wouldn’t make him love Jacob any less than he already did. His heart was aching when he realized he could never get the only man he wanted. But then again, he only wanted Jacob to be happy so it didn’t matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nate, I hope you love Theodore as much as I do.
> 
> Also, thanks y'all for reading~! If you can, drop a Kudos, or a comment. They mean the world to me.  
I can be reached via Tumblr (wolfnotadevil), and I'm always happy to talk with my readers.
> 
> xoxo  
\- Toivo


	12. I missed you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. And I hope you enjoy! <3

Hyrum was getting sick of waking up with a massive headache and a stomach twisting nausea. But as there was no one else to blame, he had to be pissed at himself. The night before was a flurry of emotions, pain and misshapen memories, and he couldn’t remember exactly what had happened. He rolled to his back, swallowing forcefully to get rid of the taste of bile in his mouth and covering his eyes with his hands. Sunlight was pouring through a large window, and every dust particle was visible as they floated through the thick air.

As he sat up, he scanned his surroundings — he was in a small bedroom, with a tall dresser and a small nightstand, nothing else. Reluctantly he threw his feet on the floor, hissing at the coldness of the worn-out hardwood. His thighs were sticky — a foul reminder of the night before. The sheets were stained with blood, and what appeared to be cum.

His eyes fixated on the bottle of lube and a packet of condoms on top of the nightstand, and the sight made him gag. He shook his head, pressing his hand against his mouth. Eventually, he had to flick his eyes away to calm his nerves. All his muscles were sore and his arms had distinct finger-shaped bruises scattered along them. It was clear what had happened, even though he had no memories of it. He knew he’d gone too far, and he needed help. The damage he’d caused to himself was nauseating because help was something he had needed for the past month.

After leaving the Whitetails behind few weeks prior, he had wandered around, mostly keeping to himself, but occasionally shacking up with either civilians, or other Whitetails. Most of the time he’d been glad that he was alone, and because he had nowhere to go, he was free to do and go anywhere. Despite it, he’d been staying around Holland Valley, once, or twice straying into Henbane River — never into Whitetail Mountains, though.

After a while, he felt confident enough to drop his hand. Nausea had eased a bit, so he took a hairband from his wrist and tied his hair into a small ponytail — he’d cut it a while back, tired of the constant fighting with longer hair. But now that it was shorter, it was curlier than ever, with strands sticking out and not staying still.

As Hyrum tried to check the time he found that his wristwatch was gone. He leaned against his thighs, his head thudding painfully. Slowly he got to his feet, only to realize that his clothes were scattered on the floor. Or at least he assumed they were his clothes. He picked up a Whitetail uniform and a t-shirt and got dressed while trying to figure out his next move. His pistol and his knife were both under the bed and he strapped the holster around his thigh, thanking God that his weapons were still intact. Before holstering his pistol, he checked that there were bullets in the magazine, which it did.

Holding his breath Hyrum crept out of the room into a small vestibule. The front door was on the right, straight ahead a bathroom and on the left a living room and a kitchen. He headed for the kitchen and nearly screamed as he saw a tall, slick-looking blond man standing there with a coffee mug in his hand. He raised his head and grinned, wiping his free hand against his camouflage cargo trousers — he seemed to be a Whitetail, judging by his clothing and the cap laying on top of the kitchen counter.

“Morning!” he chirped cheerfully, his cold, expressionless eyes going up and down. “Want some coffee?”

Hyrum frowned. “Yeah, sure,” he said slowly, and then added a curt, “Thanks.” He felt extremely uncomfortable, but he couldn’t pinpoint the source of that feeling. There was something off with the whole situation, that much was clear. He rarely got so drunk that he blacked out. It just didn’t happen, so he was a bit nervous. But then again, as he didn’t remember what had happened, it was possible that he’d just lost count of how much he’d been drinking, or what drugs and how much he’d been using.

The man smiled as he grabbed a mug from the counter. He filled it and turned around to hand it to Hyrum. The fake smile plastered on his face made Hyrum feel uneasy — there was something seriously wrong with the guy. Not knowing what to do, he glanced around, noting that the television in the corner of the living room was filled with static, which frizzled and swayed. It wasn’t that surprising that there was electricity; after all many of Hope County residents relied on solar power, mainly because the power grid wasn’t always working properly, but also because it was a lot cheaper to get panels installed. But it was still weird that the TV was on — it wasn’t like there was anything on.

“How’s your head?” the man asked, way too casually, and sipped his coffee.

“Fine. It’s not hurting or anything,” Hyrum lied and forced a saccharine smile as he turned to face the stranger. He held his coffee mug, enjoying the warmth and the bitter, familiar scent which he inhaled deeply.

“Good. You were pretty fucked last night.” He laughed, but his laughter was empty.

“I was probably high,” Hyrum said and shrugged. His instincts were telling him to run, but he was too exhausted to do so. “I’m sorry, but I can’t seem to recall your name,” he added and pulled the sheepiest smile he could muster, hoping it wouldn’t aggravate the situation.

“It’s Chris.”

“Oh. Sorry. I suck at remembering names.” It was amazing how quickly and effortlessly his lies came out, even though he was extremely hungover, and it felt like his head was full of sawdust. His tone was disgustingly sweet, and he wondered how the hell he managed to hook up with guys who weren’t exactly good, or even nice. Some of them, like Chris, were downright dangerous. There certainly seemed to be a pattern — almost everyone he’d hooked up with had, at some point, harmed him one way or another.

“That’s fine,” Chris replied. His smile vanished and his eyes narrowed. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Who’s Jake?” Hyrum stared at him and his stomach turned. He tried to breathe steadily, so his fear wouldn’t show. Keeping his voice level, he said, “No one. Why?” Had he mentioned Jacob? By accident? On purpose? Hyrum was starting to panic, as he had no idea what he’d said, or why, or when.

“Ouch. I’m offended,” Chris said lightly like he was merely joking. He laid his mug down on the counter and stepped closer. “You do know why I’m asking?”

“No, but I should actually head back, people are waiting for me and I believe I’m already late.”

Chris snorted, like he was calling bullshit, and inched closer. He brought his hands to Hyrum’s shoulders and dug his fingers into his flesh. His grip was too tight to come across as just friendly concern — it was so tight that it was alarming, and Hyrum felt his muscles tensing. If he’d just turn around, he could run outside. But he couldn’t. His muscles were weak, his knees like pudding and he was frozen in place.

“Not until you answer me,” Chris said slowly, emphasizing every word and pronouncing them with sharp edges.  _ Run, run, run, _ Hyrum’s instincts screamed at him.

“I told you, he’s no one.” His voice faltered.

“Look, I feel like I deserve an explanation because it’s pretty damn rude of you to moan someone else’s name while I’m fucking you.” Chris’s flat, lifeless eyes measured the Whitetail, and they weren’t empty anymore. They were so full of wrath, that they were shaking. The thing that made Chris seem like he was out of his mind was the fact that he wasn’t blinking, Hyrum realized.

“What?” he croaked, panic scraping his throat, nearly making him puke as the words sunk in. He held his mug tightly, afraid that he’d shatter it if he’d keep squeezing.

“Yeah, you kept calling me Jake and—”

“I was high, like I said, alright?” He tore himself free and quickly slammed his mug on the counter and took a step back. “I should really go.” There was no other way out of the situation than leaving, and if Chris was indeed a Whitetail, Hyrum wasn’t willing to harm him. Let alone kill him — he’d pissed off enough Whitetails already. There was always the possibility that he wasn’t a Whitetail, but it seemed unlikely.

“That’s not what I asked, bitch.”

“Fuck you.” It slipped out.

Chris grabbed Hyrum by his wrist and dug his nails into his skin. “Don’t you fucking walk away from me. Who the hell is he? It’s a simple question, alright?” He laughed. An obvious, and dangerous, fake laugh. Hyrum could almost hear something clicking inside his brain, as the adrenaline started to course through his body.

“What the hell, man? Why is it such a big deal? Just let it go. Or is your sense of self-worth somehow tied to the fact that I was fantasizing about another guy? Because if it is, then, oh well, tough shit.” Hyrum glared at the man, whose eyes were blazing with anger. He swallowed, as he realized he’d stepped over a line. But he couldn’t stop himself. “You weren’t that great, so yeah there’s that too. You can only blame yourself.”  _ Shut up, you fucking idiot shut the hell up _ , Hyrum thought to himself. But deep down he knew all he was trying to do was to hurt himself — and what better way than to piss off a guy who clearly was out of his mind.

“Just answer the question.” Chris’s voice was cold.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“You’ll answer it, or I’ll drag your ass to the bedroom and we’ll see whose name you’ll be screaming next.” Hyrum felt nauseous, and he blinked back tears. It was a surprise to him that someone could be so threatening for no particular reason — a Whitetail nonetheless. And for the first time ever, he felt like he was on the wrong side of the fight. What the hell was he doing there? He didn’t belong with the Whitetails anymore, nor did he belong with the resistance, and he wasn’t exactly a civilian. That left only one option.

“Well?” Chris hissed.

“Alright, fine,” Hyrum said slowly. His voice was weak and he held his breath as he stepped closer, so there was only a mere inch between them. He stared Chris straight into his eyes and said, “Jake? Yeah, that’s what I call Jacob Seed. So, let me go, or I’ll make sure he knows what you’ve done to me. He’s the jealous type.” He forced a fake, nasty smile. “And he doesn’t take kindly to people who threaten me.”

“Bullshit,” Chris replied and snorted.

“No. It’s not. And you know what?” Hyrum quickly unsheathed his knife and pressed it against Chris’ ribs, using enough force that the tip popped through the skin. “Let me go, or I’ll stab you.”

Hyrum had God knows how long of a bender behind him, and he knew exactly how badly his nerves were fried because of it. He was acting irrationally, but he didn’t want to stop. Sometimes it felt good losing control and acting like a dick. He could never redeem himself, not after what he did to the Whitetails, not after what he did to Keith, and honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to be redeemed. He now knew he most certainly was on the wrong side, and suddenly he realized that the world was indeed gone and nothing mattered anymore. Not his life, not Chris’, not the promises he’d made to Keith, not his past, his future, or even present. There was nothing left.

“Are you serious?” Chris finally let go and stumbled backward, his back painfully slamming against the edge of the counter. He didn’t dare to even glance at the knife, afraid that it would escalate the situation.

“Yes. Now let me leave in peace, or I’ll cut your fucking dick off.” Hyrum thought that he should do it just in case, but decided against it.

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

Suddenly something shifted inside Hyrum and sheathed his knife calmly, before pulling his pistol out and shoving it against Chris’ chest. He flicked the safety off and smiled with way too many teeth, his glazed, sunken eyes telling that he wasn’t fucking around. His finger hovered against the trigger, stroking it, teasingly applying pressure on it. Chris looked like he was about to faint.

_ I should shoot him, _ Hyrum thought, and he loathed himself because of it. He crinkled his nose and slowly walked backward, keeping his gun steady and aimed towards Chris. It didn’t take him long to get out of the house, and he had to drain the last remains of his self-control not to shoot the man.

When he stepped out, he turned around and bolted, holding his pistol tightly. The nippy September air greeted him, easing his pounding headache as he ran further away from the house, regretting that he hadn’t pulled the trigger.

That’s when Hyrum realized where he was — at Rae Rae’s pumpkin farm, and he knew exactly how to get back into Jacob’s region. John could kill him if he still wanted to, but he needed to get back. He headed for the dirt road that would lead him home after two long months. The apple trees were barren, and the rotten fruits were dotting the still-green grass. Their sickly sweet smell lingered in the air as he realized that he really did have a home — and he’d been away far too long.

***

Jacob hissed as he saw Hyrum crossing into his region, and at that moment he decided to follow him around a bit, trying to figure out where he was going. The Whitetail walked right past him, as he was nearly invisible standing in the tree line, leaning against a pine tree, shrouded by shrubs and undergrowth. He stayed in the shadows, instinctively avoiding branches and fallen leaves so he wouldn’t give up his location.

A few of the Judges had survived the Collapse, and that day Jacob was accompanied by one who was constantly poking his hand. She wanted attention, so the soldier quickly brushed his fingers through her rough hair, smiling as the wolf stuck her tongue out and panted happily. The Judge was from a different batch, so to speak than the majority, so she still had her tail and she wasn’t as scruffy looking. And she was a lot smaller and scrawnier than others — one bad batch of Bliss was to thank.

Elk Jaw Lodge. That’s how long Jacob could keep to himself. He was about a hundred yards behind Hyrum when he sent his Judge to stop him. She bolted from the tree line, quickly running along the paved road, her nails scraping the asphalt. The nearing winter had turned the bright green leaves into a mix of red, orange and yellow, and the trees far in the mountains looked like they were engulfed in flames, as they were filled with red leaves. Soon they would fall and leave the trees barren.

Jacob could hear Hyrum’s surprised yelp, as the wolf ran past him and stopped him by jumping in front of him, her teeth bared. She stepped closer and Jacob whistled — one short and sharp whistle. The Judge backed down, keeping her eyes peeled on the Whitetail, her teeth flashing in the gloomy Autumn sunlight, her tail rigid and pointing at the sky.

“What are you doing here?” Jacob hissed.

Hyrum whisked around, his eyes wide. “Jake… Hey. It’s been a while.” He could hear the low growl of the Judge behind him, but at that moment the only thing he could focus on was the man standing in front of him. He'd grown out his beard and his hair, making him look normal. He wasn’t the soldier, nor the Herald, nor the cannibal. He was just Jacob.

“That’s not what I asked,” Jacob said, folding his arms. He was standing with his back straight, his eyes narrowed. Hyrum scanned him from head to toe, mustering up a small smile when he realized that Jacob looked like he was doing well. His black cargo trousers were muddy, and the black t-shirt under his old fatigues was just tight enough so it licked his skin. Hyrum swallowed, as seeing the jacket brought back all the memories of what Jacob had done before the Collapse. Everything he had been, and for the first time in months he was afraid — because he’d kind of forgotten the fact that Jacob had been a Herald. A violent, ruthless and dangerous one.

“I came back,” Hyrum finally said.

“Clearly. But why?”

“I wanted to see you.”

Jacob scoffed. “Yeah, right. Go back to your friends. You’re not welcome here.” Why he struggled was beyond him. He didn’t want Hyrum to leave, and he was a welcome sight, and the only thing he wanted to do was to hug him. But his instincts fought back, keeping him on his toes. He was sure it couldn’t be that easy.

“What? Jake, I—”

“You left. You said you’d rather die.”

“I know. And I’m sorry,” Hyrum interrupted as he stepped closer. “I missed you. I really did.” It sounded like he was pleading.

Anger flashed in Jacob’s eyes as his brow furrowed and he sighed. “Yeah. You think it’s okay to sleep around and return to me, is that it? I don’t believe I was stupid enough to—” He caught himself before anything slipped out. “Just leave. No one wants you here.” Jacob was bitter, and he’d been fighting with his feelings alone for over two months. It was a long time to wait for someone, especially when he had no fucking idea why their paths had separated. And having Theodore around had made everything ten times more difficult — he was a man he’d known for decades, who loved him and adored him. And still, the only man Jacob could think of was Hyrum. It made no sense.

Jacob didn’t move, or even say anything when Hyrum cupped his elbows with his shaking hands. It was oddly comforting for both of them, especially when he inched closer, his fingers brushing against the rough fabric.

“I wasn’t… Sleeping around.”

“You think I don't know what these are?” the soldier asked, sounding offended, and poked at Hyrum’s neck. It wasn’t a hard poke, but it still hurt like hell. “I know I’m a…” He caught himself again. “Those are hickeys, and even I know that.” It wasn’t like he was completely innocent, but he was sure that Hyrum had done a lot worse than what he’d done with Theodore. Jacob had to remind himself that he didn’t have a say in what, or who the kid did, even though he wished he had.

“I didn’t know I had those.” As he lifted his hand to his neck, his sleeve slipped down, revealing the multi-colored bruises on his wrist and forearm. Jacob’s expression softened and he breathed out, his eyes fixed on the small, oval-shaped marks. But wrath flared up inside of him, as he realized someone had hurt Hyrum on purpose and he hissed, startling them both.

“You alright?” he asked, taking Hyrum’s hand, his grip too tight, and rolling the sleeve as far as it would go. “What the fuck…” he muttered. Bruises, cuts, abrasions and track marks adorning his pale skin. “What the hell happened?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Jacob said sternly. He hesitated because he was angry and hurt, but he’d been missing Hyrum like crazy, so he caved in, pulling him into a hug. The Judge tilted her head and wagged her tail. She was a bit simple and way too kind, but she reminded Jacob of Hyrum, so it wasn’t like he had the heart to kill her. Even though she wasn’t especially effective, or useful. But she’d been keeping Jacob company, sleeping next to him, or under his bed.

“I really missed you,” Hyrum mumbled against the Herald’s chest, pawing at his back, his nails scraping against the fatigues. “I’m sorry I said all those things, but I… I was so fucking afraid.” He was on the verge of bursting into violent sobs, but somehow he managed to keep himself from breaking down.

“Of what?” Jacob asked, tightening his embrace, not willing to let go from the trembling man. His eyes prickled, but he gritted his teeth so he wouldn’t cry. It was too early to shed tears, too early to be so attached that he was about to cry.

“John.” It was like someone had kicked Jacob; he winced and struggled to breathe. Reluctantly he pushed Hyrum at an arm’s length, keeping his hands on his shoulders, nervously petting him. He was blinking rapidly, his chest heaving out of shock.

“What did he say?” he demanded.

“He, uh… Said that if I don’t leave, he’d kill me. He didn’t give me a choice, and I thought… I thought you’d take his side. I was so afraid.” Hyrum’s voice broke and he flicked his eyes down, ashamed of how weak he was. He wasn't worthy enough to even stand so close to Jacob, let alone be his friend, or more.

“No,” the Herald said like he didn’t believe what he was hearing. In reality, he couldn’t believe how fucking stupid he’d been. Of course, John had been the reason why the kid had left, of course, that idiot had ruined everything. “That little shit. What else did he say?”

“Remember that it was probably Rook’s fault, not John’s, but—”

“What,” Jacob asked, breathing heavily, trying to hold his composure. It wasn’t the first time John had fucked up, because God knows what stupid reason. “did he say?” He had to squeeze the words out.

“He called me a…” Hyrum closed his eyes to hide his pain. “Whore. And a slut. I don’t… He said that Rook told him things.”

“What things?”

“He… Said that…” He opened his eyes and sniffled. “That I fuck anything that moves.” Jacob’s eyes widened and disgust flashed across his face. His arms jerked but he didn’t let go, even though he suddenly had a nasty feeling all over his body. “I swear it’s not true. It’s not. I… I’ve done some shit during my life, but I’m not that type of person.”  _ Anymore, _ he added in his mind, knowing that he'd have to come clean to Jacob at some point. And he dreaded it already.

It was embarrassing trying to explain that he wasn’t a slut when his neck was dotted with hickeys and his arms were blotched with bruises. His thighs were still sticky and he had a gross feeling all over his body, but he wasn’t going to mention it to Jacob.

“We gotta go back to Wolf’s Den. He had no right… That fucking Deputy. I don’t care how important he is to Joseph, I’ll fucking rip his head off.”

“Jake?”

“What?” he snapped, his voice a lot louder than he’d meant.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Sorry,” the soldier muttered and eased his grip. “I… Kiddo? You had something to tell me before you left. What was it?” he added. He’d been going over the moment every single day, regretting that he hadn’t stopped and listened when he’d had the chance. He had imagined every single possibility, but he was still unsure of what he  _ wanted _ to hear. But nothing could have prepared him for what Hyrum said next.

“I love you.” It was a defeated and embarrassed whisper. “That’s what I had to say.” He knew it was a stupid decision to blurt it out, but he was afraid he’d never have another chance to say it.

Jacob flinched. He wasn’t sure how he should respond. “Uh, we have to address that later,” he eventually said, deciding that it was best to ignore the confession for now. He needed time. He wasn't there yet, because it was too early to speak of love, but he felt weirdly happy that someone loved him. It wasn’t a bad thing, but he was surprised. And he had to admit that what he was feeling towards Hyrum was one of the early steps on the path to loving someone. “Look, let’s take a car. It’s faster, albeit waste of fuel, but you do look like shit. When’s the last time you ate?”

“I’m… Not sure. Maybe yesterday.”

“Kid…” He wanted to scold Hyrum, but he just sighed in defeat. “There’s a car about half a mile from here, in the breakthrough camp. Let’s go.”

Hyrum nodded and followed Jacob as he started to lead him along the paved road. They walked in silence, the wind howling between the trees and carrying the scent of looming winter with it. The Judge trotted in front of them, bursting into an uncoordinated sprint, before turning around and running back to Jacob, poking him with her snout. Her enthusiasm made Hyrum smile, and she noticed it. Letting out a small whine, she brushed against Hyrum’s leg, softly nibbling his hand before darting away, her tail flailing in circles like a propeller.

Jacob sighed occasionally as he marched forward, Hyrum in tow. He didn’t realize that the Whitetail was struggling to keep up with him, because he was deep in thought — mostly he was wondering how Teddy would react. There was no way in hell he could ever choose between his oldest friend and the person he wanted to share his bed with. Thinking about it made his head hurt, and he knew there was no point in mulling over it. He would speak with Teddy and he could think about it after.

It didn’t take them long to arrive at the abandoned camp, and half a mile wasn’t a long way, but Hyrum looked like he was about to collapse when they finally reached it. Jacob dug the car keys from his pocket and nodded towards a dusty Eden’s Gate truck, parked just under the large sign which said BREAKTHROUGH CAMP in large letters.

“That’s our ride,” he said with a small smile.

“Yeah,” Hyrum replied quietly. Jacob glanced at him, and he grew even more worried as he saw how pale he was. Keeping his worry to himself, he opened a door to let the Judge jump to the backseat. Hyrum plopped down on the passenger’s seat, leaning against the headrest before slamming the door shut. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was, but now that he was sitting, his legs began to tremble and he felt sleepy.

Jacob managed to keep his mouth shut, until he’d started the car and peeled off, the wheels spraying small rocks and sand behind the truck.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked, his voice strained. His worry bled through and he cringed as he noticed it.

“I…” Hyrum’s voice trailed off and his eyes were fixed on the rearview mirror. “Uh… Is she okay?”

“What?”

“She’s licking the window.”

Jacob glanced at the mirror and snorted. The Judge was indeed licking the window, pressing her nose against it, slobbering all over. Thick strands of drool fell against the upholstery, and she let out a long, quiet whine.

“Yeah, she… She’s a bit different.”

Hyrum chuckled. “Yeah.”

“I missed you.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” the soldier muttered, his eyes peeled on the road and his cheeks red. “I didn’t… Think that I would. But here we are. And I really wanna know what happened to you.”

“I don’t know,” Hyrum sighed. “I can’t remember. But it seems that I was drunk enough to forget what happened last night. Or that could’ve been the drugs.” Jacob didn’t react, he simply kept driving, the trees flashing by in reddish blurs. But his grip on the wheel tightened, and his knuckles turned sheet white and his foot was heavy on the gas pedal. “That’s the only explanation I have.”

“You don’t even owe me one,” Jacob said quietly.

“I feel like I do.” Hyrum left out the fact that he felt like he’d been cheating on him, even though they weren’t together. But he couldn’t ignore the delicate bond they had, and he prayed that he hadn’t destroyed everything by being a coward and leaving. “Are your brothers still here?” he asked carefully.

“Yeah. We’ve been staying at the Wolf’s Den, and planning for our next move.”

Hyrum stared out the window, swallowing tears, not able to concentrate on the breathtaking scenery, which he usually loved. Of course, they’d been planning for the future, and knowing Joseph, it couldn’t be anything good. The pine trees flashed by in blotches of green amidst all the vibrant colors, and Hyrum was sure he saw movement between them when Jacob slowed down to make a left turn.

“Look, kid… I don’t agree with what John said. It was wrong of him. But I don’t get what the Deputy was trying to do by telling that stuff to him. They hate each other, so I… Maybe John was just lying. And it seems like… I dunno. I’m just tired of breaking up their fights. And Joseph is fucking useless.”

“What’s up with them?”

Jacob grimaced. “Well… Joseph and Rook are a thing now. And it pisses John off. He was okay with it in the beginning, but now he’s flipping off constantly, and being nasty about everything.” He left out the fact that it kind of pissed him off too having to listen to their blissful relations. But he wasn’t going to speak about it to Joseph — he didn’t even know how. It didn’t bother him enough to address it — he was over the moon that Joseph had found someone, as long as he ignored that the certain someone was Rook.

Hyrum turned to look at Jacob, his eyes wide with shock. The roar of the engine filled the awkward silence between them, as neither of them knew what to say next. Hyrum was speechless. Before he’d left, he’d noticed that something had changed between Joseph and the Deputy, but he’d never imagined that they were romantically involved. It seemed so far fetched and immensely absurd.

“Jake… Did you know that your brother was interested in men?” It was a blunt question, but Hyrum was curious. He knew for a fact that Rook was gay, but Joseph… Well, he’d always assumed that he was straight — just like he’d done with Jacob. A mistake, it seemed like.

“I didn’t. I thought he wasn’t interested in anything involving dating, or relationships. Not that he ever said so, but that’s how I interpreted it.”

“Yeah. It just sounds—”

“Unbelievable, I know. But…” Jacob fell quiet, as he hesitated. “Before I say anything else, I… I need to know if you’re gonna leave again.”

“What’s the alternative?”

“You could stay. Lord knows we need a nurse. Joseph has a plan.” He paused and huffed. “We have a plan, I guess.”

“Stay and… What? Join Eden’s Gate?” Hyrum asked, and he seriously considered it. He wasn’t exactly sure what had shifted, but he knew there was no going back to the Whitetails, and he  _ was _ in love with Jacob — so what the hell.

“Not necessarily. I just wanna know if you’re planning on ditching me again.”

Hyrum scowled. “No. I’m not.”

“Okay,” the soldier replied, a smile tugging at his lips. “One of the reasons why Joseph is with him, well… The Voice is back. And he has seen visions of him and the Deputy.” Jacob bit his lip, glancing at the younger man. “It seems like he’s on the right path. And he… He’s changed. I know my brother, and he’s the same as he was when we first arrived here. He’s seen his transgressions and has asked for forgiveness.”

“Has he  _ really _ changed, though?” Hyrum asked, his voice strained. “What if he’ll change back into the person he was just a few months ago? No one can change that fast.”  _ Or can they? _ he thought. He had changed, and so had Jacob, so why not Joseph?

“He really is,” Jacob insisted. “Look… I didn’t mention this earlier, but naturally, we had post-Collapse plans. Joseph made me promise, that I’d love the survivors. That I’d make them stronger. I didn’t think much of it, because I was ready to die, and I believed that I would. But then I survived, and ended up with you.” His lips finally curled into a smile. “I thought of you as a family from the beginning. I trust Joseph, I really do. But here’s the thing, kiddo… He still sometimes acts as he owns us. John is just happy about it. He’s at Joseph’s beck and call around the clock.”

“What about you?” Hyrum was stunned by the sheer amount of information and words pouring out of Jacob. It was like he’d pent up everything up for the two months they’d been apart, and now he had to get it all out or he’d explode.

“I feel like the ties have been severed. He’s my brother, so of course, I care about him. But I’m not willing to let him dictate my life anymore. I was supposed to die. I had no other purpose. But I’m loyal to him, as long as he lets me live my life.” He knew perfectly well, that no matter what, he’d always stay loyal to his brother. He wasn’t just ready to admit it to himself, let alone to anyone else.

“Do you have a purpose now?”

Jacob hummed. “I do.”

“ _ You don’t really know what I am doing, but later you will understand. _ ”

“What?” the soldier asked and frowned. Driving was a great excuse so he wouldn’t have to look at Hyrum. He was sure his heart would stop, because every time he looked at the kid, his heart skipped a beat.

“It’s from the Gospel of John. It…” Hyrum groaned. “I’m tired, but I’ll try and word myself coherently. When the Collapse came, I was scared. I hated you. I couldn’t understand why God would trap me with you. But… Now I can see it. Now I understand. It… It’s difficult to explain.”

“I get it.”

“You do?”

“Of course. Joseph told me you were coming back. He saw it.”

“He’s seen visions… About me?” He sounded suspicious.

“Yeah. But we’ll have to talk more when you’re feeling better.” Jacob looked at Hyrum, and the truck jerked to the side when his eyes lingered. He quickly straightened the car and sighed. “You look worse than before.” He was worried, as Hyrum wasn’t just pale — his skin was ashen and he was constantly shivering and his muscles were twitching. The sun was shining low in the sky, and there were no clouds in sight. Just pure, achingly blue sky stretching as far as the eye could see, dotted by birds flying over the mountains.

“Oh, yeah,” Jacob suddenly said, breaking the silence between them. “Thanks for telling Teddy.” He smiled. “He’s my oldest friend. So… I was glad to have him back so soon. You didn’t have to do it.”

“Yeah, I did, because it’s you. You deserved it, and he deserved to know you’re alive.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

***

Jacob realized that Hyrum wasn’t following him when he’d reached the bottom of the stairs. He could hear the pattering of the Judge’s paws as she trotted down the hallway and headed deeper into the bunker, probably off to greet John. Jacob turned around, watching the man’s sullen expression as he finally started to climb the stairs down, his eyes wide with terror. Of course, he was scared, and rightfully so. John  _ was _ dangerous and Jacob knew exactly how dangerous he truly was.

Without saying a word, he took Hyrum’s hand and pulled gently. He followed without a word, his breathing growing labored. He didn’t dare to object when the soldier led him along the hallways and into his room. Everything looked the same, and as Hyrum sat down on the bed, he noticed the familiar, red sniper rifle propped against the wall, right next to his guitar. He tensed, sure that it was a trap. There was no way in hell Jacob was taking him back so fucking easily. It had to be a trap, it had to be. The words were on a loop in his head, his heart thudding loudly.

“Do you want anything?” Jacob asked softly. Hyrum lifted his gaze and shrugged, not knowing what to say. “Kid?” he continued and squatted in front of him, leaving his hands to rest on his thighs. “I’m glad you’re back. But we really need to have a serious conversation after you’ve rested.”

“I know,” Hyrum replied, his brow furrowed. He hesitated before adding, “Could you… bring me water? And a fresh shirt, or something.”

“Of course,” Jacob said and stood. He grabbed the first shirt he could find from his dresser and threw it on the bed. “You cut your hair.” Hyrum flicked his eyes up, and for a fleeting moment he looked worried, running his fingers through his hair, so Jacob added hastily, “It looks really good.” He smiled and left, his heart aching. He couldn’t believe Hyrum was back. He was  _ back _ and he wasn’t leaving. Jacob felt downright giddy, and he pushed the thought of his littlest brother aside — he could deal with him later.

The time he had spent with his brothers and Rook had been weird. He was extremely happy that his brothers were alive and well, and he was glad that Joseph had plans for their future. Most of his free time he’d spent outside, walking and scouring the Whitetail Mountains, looking for signs of Hyrum, or just trying to unwind. That’s how he’d found three Judges, all lying lazily in the sun, their bellies full. It had been easy to lead them back to Wolf’s Den, as they had nearly lost their shit when they saw their master.

Theodore had been amazing. Perfect, in fact. He’d stepped into Jacob’s shoes and had been helping Joseph and Rook as much as he could. Jacob could trust that he’d keep his brothers, and Rook of course, safe and sound when he was out. They’d quickly grown into a tight-knit family once again, if not taking into account John’s sulking and his hostility towards Rook.

Jacob couldn’t stop smiling when he grabbed a glass and filled it with cold water. Joseph and Rook had left to fish, Theodore and the two other Judges in tow, and John was hunkered down in the storage room, drawing and fantasizing about getting his hands on a tattoo machine. He could hear the dumbass Judge running about, her low whines and yelps echoing inside the bunker. He'd left the hatch wide open, but it didn't really matter — the Judge wouldn’t let strangers inside and she would alert Jacob if needed.

Knowing that Hyrum should eat something, Jacob opened the cupboard and tried to find something easy and quick. He nearly dropped the glass, as he heard a shriek, and John’s voice hurling curses. The blood froze in his veins, and the glass shattered when he smacked it against the counter. He ran out of the kitchen, his head spinning. As he reached his room, Hyrum was on the floor, covering his head with his arms and John was towering over him.

Without thinking twice, Jacob grabbed his brother by his arms and pulled him away, before throwing him against the wall on the other side of his small room. The back of his head banged against it and he cried out in pain, his eyes filling with tears. But Jacob felt no pity, nor remorse. He wanted to inflict more pain on his brother because he was so done with him.

“You idiot!” he yelled, stepping in front of his brother, ready to hit him if necessary. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What the fuck is he doing here?” John hissed, his hands balled into fists, which he pressed against his thighs to stop himself from attacking. His nose was crinkled and he had a disgusted look on his face when his eyes flicked to Hyrum and back to his brother.

“I brought him here, you utter and complete fuckup.”

“Why?”

“None of your business. Stay put,” Jacob ordered. John stepped closer. “Back off,” he snapped and pointed at his little brother. “Don’t you dare move.”

“Or else?”

Jacob hissed and bared his teeth. “Or else I’m gonna hurt you.” He turned around and squatted, prying Hyrum’s arms away from his head. “Kid? You alright?”

“Yeah,” he muttered as Jacob helped him up, his eyes damp and wide. Not giving a shit about John, he balled Jacob’s fatigues into his fists and leaned against his chest, even though it made him seem like a useless damsel in distress. He sighed as the soldier wrapped one arm around him, his hand rubbing forcefully against his shoulder blades.

“You sure you’re alright?” Hyrum nodded. “Good.”

“Jacob, why—”

“John. Leave it. We’ll talk later. Could you leave us alone?”

“But I—”

“No,” Jacob snapped. He glanced over his shoulder. “I promise, we’ll talk later. But now you gotta leave before I lose my shit and hurt you.”

John knew better than to aggravate his brother, so as he left he kept his eyes on Jacob, his nose still crinkled and brow furrowed. He was pissed, and Jacob could see it, but he could handle him later when he had someone holding him back. It was difficult to admit, but he was afraid that he would seriously hurt his little brother — he wanted him to suffer, but how much, he couldn’t say. There had been no consequences for his actions, which annoyed Jacob.

“I’m sorry,” Hyrum said. A sob tore through his lungs and he started to shake. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No. You need to eat and drink something, and after that, you gotta rest.” Jacob sighed and hugged him, petting his back. “I’ll stay here with you.” He buried his nose into the sweaty curls, inhaling deeply and trying to keep his hands from shaking. He wanted to go and bang John’s head against a wall. Repeatedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And our bois are back together. I still wanna hit John with something, tbh.  
I hope you enjoyed, and please leave a kudos or a comment if you did. <3  
xoxo
> 
> \- Toivo


	13. I wrote you a letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here folks. Chapter 13. Last chapter. I'm excited.  
Thank you for everything, my readers. Every comment, kudos and message I've gotten have meant the world to me. THANK YOU <3  
Now, enjoy.

_ I love you. _

The words were on Jacob’s tongue, but he merely dragged his fingers through Hyrum’s damp hair, making him squirm and mutter something in his sleep. There were so many unresolved things hanging between them, that Jacob was downright scared. So much had happened to the both of them, that Jacob didn’t know where to begin unraveling the whole mess. But love… That was probably the correct word to use. He sat still for a moment, his fingers rubbing small circles against Hyrum’s nape. Then he hummed and got to his feet, his whole body begging him to get back into the warm bed next to the man he probably loved.

No. He most definitely did love Hyrum. The realization knocked the air out of his lungs and he felt light-headed and giddy.

Walking through the bunker one last time felt weird. Soon they would depart and leave for the Project’s compound outside Hope County. A recon mission a week before Hyrum had returned had revealed that their house was still standing there. It was okay. Dusty, and a bit of a fixer-upper, but it was okay. Theodore had decided to stay there and start fixing the house and checking the bunkers they had hidden around it — including the one just beneath the old, large house. Jacob had agreed, although reluctantly, and he’d hugged his friend tightly before hopping back into their chopper and taking off with Rook.

Even though Jacob and Rook weren’t friends, they got along pretty well. Jacob respected the relationship the Deputy had with Joseph, and he was genuinely happy about it — it had been years since he’d seen Joseph smile and laugh so much. And that’s exactly what he’d told Rook one night when they were both unable to sleep. Rook had just nodded and Jacob had ignored the tears glistening in his eyes.

Everyone was still sleeping when Jacob took his rifle and exited into the chilly morning, glad of his thick beard which kept his face warm. One last hunt, one last meal before they would leave. He felt like a bonfire and cooking together would do some good to all of them. Especially to John; it seemed like he was depressed and Jacob felt absolutely useless. No matter what he did, or said, John was merely a shadow. There was something bothering him, and he refused to talk to anyone. He spent most of his time outside trekking around the mountains with a Judge accompanying him. Jacob never asked where he went and why. Sometimes John had asked Theodore to join him, but even Teddy didn’t reveal any details of their trips. He just smiled and shrugged his shoulders whenever Jacob asked about them.

Jacob walked along the narrow trails, enjoying the light drizzle and the cold, gentle wind howling amidst the evergreens and the bare aspens. Soon it would be winter again, and things might get complicated. Especially because the old house didn’t have any central heating — the only way to warm it up was a fireplace. They’d have to gather up enough firewood to last through the grueling winter that Montana had to offer.

Now that he was momentarily freed of his duties, he felt like he was on top of the world; he could fish and hunt all he wanted, and Joseph was just glad that he spent a lot of time outdoors. His duties were waiting for him, yes, but he was determined to make most of the freedom he had and not spend the time stressing about the future. The future seemed bleak and unsure, and now that his whole family was together again, he was constantly worried they would be parted yet again. Twice had been enough.

Hours went by quickly. Jacob kept relentlessly searching for deer prints, while at the same time making sure his region was in good shape. It didn’t matter that much anymore, because they were leaving, but seeing the plants and animals thriving made him happy. When he finally did find prints, he began to follow them, walking as briskly and quietly as he could. The prints were fresh, but the ground was soft and muddy due to the fact that it was now raining heavily, so they were quickly being wiped away by rainfall. The terrain was rough — one of the reasons why Jacob loved the mountains so much — but he was getting tired of wading through mud and thick undergrowth.

Jacob grinned triumphantly as he finally caught up with a small herd of whitetails. He bit back a chuckle — he was hunting whitetails at Whitetail Mountains, something that always made him snicker when he was alone — and waited for a good opportunity, his rifle ready and the safety off. He breathed out slowly and took the shot, the loud boom echoing in the forest, and every single deer, except the one he’d shot, bolted deeper into the forest, their white tails flashing amidst the pine trees and vegetation.

Feeding his family wasn’t just his responsibility as the Herald, but his responsibility as the older brother. He wanted to be the sole provider for his brothers, and all of Joseph’s flock. It was impossible, but it was the one thing he wanted. His duties as the Herald had been a bit too much training people than actually providing. But Joseph’s word was the law, and Jacob knew it. Sometimes he’d been frustrated that he had to spend so much time training and teaching others. He was a good teacher, yes, but it was still a bit tedious in his opinion.

So when Jacob managed to drag the gutted deer back into Wolf’s Den and he was greeted by his family, he was sure his heart would burst out of his chest. He was proud and content that he was able to provide nourishment for everyone. Despite the rain, he was adamant about having a bonfire, and Joseph agreed with him. Soon Rook was pulling on more clothes and searching for an ax, just so he could go and chop some firewood. He was trying to please his lover so badly, that seeing it made Jacob laugh out loud.

“Hey, you,” a soft voice called from behind Jacob. He glanced over his shoulder, the deer carcass hanging from the ceiling of the bathroom — Joseph had nearly lost his shit when Jacob had tried to skin the carcass in the kitchen, hence the bathroom — and he smiled.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“So…” Hyrum said and folded his arms. “That’s a nice-looking doe. Are you gonna cook it?”

“No,” Jacob replied. Then he flashed a grin. “We are. All of us. We need something to bond over, so we’re making stew.”

Hyrum hummed and replied with a curt, “Yeah.” He leaned against the doorframe. He was looking a bit better than before, but he still looked worn. Two months had aged him, and it made Jacob nervous. He didn’t look twenty anymore. Nor twenty-eight. His skin was pale and slightly ashen. His clothes hung over his emancipated frame, and it seemed like a puff of wind could blow him away. But he was still the most stunning man Jacob had ever seen.

“What’s on your mind, then?” the soldier asked, his eyes going up and down. His lips curled into a smile.

“I wanna join you. I’ve been on the wrong side of things all this time.”

“You’re gonna have to talk to Joseph about that,” Jacob replied coolly and focused on the carcass again. He said nothing more about it, but his forehead was lined with worry. He didn’t feel comfortable letting the kid join. Yes, he was an adult and could make his own decisions, but somehow Jacob just had a bad feeling about everything. He had a weird feeling, and the nightmares he’d seen all night didn’t lessen his worrying. “Look…  _ We _ need to talk.”

“I know. There’s a lot to unpack.”

“We have time.”

Hyrum touched Jacob’s back with his hand and hummed. “We have the rest of our lives to figure this out. I’m ready to give you time. I talked with Teddy, and… Well, he told me some things.” He rubbed his hand against Jacob’s shoulder blades and stepped closer. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around him. Jacob tensed. Because of Hyrum’s words and the sudden hug.

“What things?” he asked, his voice strained.

“That you’re a bit old-fashioned.” Hyrum chuckled. “But it’s fine. I understand. And I respect that. I haven’t always been… smart. I hope that my past isn’t going to get on the way.”

“Everything can be forgiven.”

“I’ve done bad things, Jake.”

“So have I. And I don’t just mean the war. Or the Project. I’ve done some shitty things you know nothing about.”

“Okay.”

“You can’t just say okay and be done with it.”

“I wrote you a letter. It’s… easier that way for me. Consider it as… a conversation starter.” Hyrum let go and slipped something into the back pocket of Jacob’s cargo trousers. He leaned his head briefly against the soldier’s back. “Read it later, okay?” Then he was gone, his footsteps receding in a fast rhythm.

Jacob glanced over his shoulder. He smiled and shrugged with a chuckle.  _ Kids, _ he thought.

***

The night had already fallen and the sky was dotted with bright stars when Rook was done. He was sweaty and his muscles were aching, but he was content. Excited and slightly nervous, he ran inside, glad that it wasn’t raining anymore, and burst into the kitchen, all smiles and giggles. He was hopping up and down, and Joseph had never seen him so hyper.

“It’s done!” he exclaimed and whisked around. “It’s done!” he repeated as he ran back outside. Joseph burst out laughing and glanced at his older brother as if to apologize for his lover’s juvenile behavior.

“He’s alright,” Jacob said quietly and jerked his head. “Let’s go before he lights the whole forest on fire.” Worry flashed on Joseph’s face, but then he realized that Jacob was joking.

“Very funny,” he muttered and rolled his eyes. He didn’t appreciate such jokes and his brother knew it. But then he chortled — after all it  _ was _ a funny joke.

In Jacob’s opinion, the Deputy had done a magnificent job. The bonfire was huge, but it was also neatly built. Jacob patted his shoulder and nodded approvingly. He opened his mouth to apologize for his behavior in the past, but he decided against it. There was no point in bringing up the past when they were supposed to bond and relax and have fun. Rook grinned, abashed and embarrassed. Getting praised by Jacob Seed? Unbelievable. He’d also built a small campfire so they could cook. Jacob complimented it too. Rook was ecstatic.

The Deputy waited impatiently until all of the Seeds and Hyrum had gathered around the bonfire. He wanted to say something smart, but then he just said, “Wanna light it up, love?” He stared at Joseph, who stood with a smile and took the lighter he was offered. He hesitated but opted to kiss his lover despite John’s furrowed brow. Rook slipped his hand to his nape and locked him in place, his tongue teasing his lips. He made the preacher’s knees all wobbly and his breathing grew ragged quicker than he’d anticipated.

“Rook!” Joseph chided as he pulled back, his cheeks flushed. The Deputy just winked and went to sit next to John, who was pouting. He didn’t voice his disapproval, which was a victory in and of itself. He just glared at his older brother, his arms folded and his shoulders tense.

Jacob was sitting next to Hyrum, who was leaning against him, his head resting against his shoulder. They watched as Joseph fumbled with the lighter, before managing to light up the bonfire. Rook had apparently used some sort of accelerant because the flames surged towards the sky and Joseph jumped backward with a shriek, scared for his eyebrows. He shot a nasty look at Rook, but the man just laughed, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

To everyone’s surprise, the night went well. Everyone was nervous and uptight until Hyrum opened a bottle of vodka and handed it to John — who took it after hesitating for a moment. Then he took a long swig. Hyrum told Jacob, in a hushed voice, that it was the last time he was drinking. But they needed to relax. They needed to unwind. He knew, just like Jacob did, that alcohol and good food were exactly what they needed.

Jacob was in charge of the cooking, but he wanted everyone to take part, so he kept telling everyone what to do — much to John’s displeasure. Joseph stood near the campfire, holding a bowl of peeled sweet potato pieces and waiting for the water to boil. Rook was chopping up the meat inside with Hyrum, and John was watching the fire. Jacob was smoking a cigarette, eyeing the situation with a smile on his face. He loved the way Joseph’s nose crinkled as he focused on the flames underneath the kettle. He loved the way John lit up small sticks, before chucking them into the fire. It was like they were kids again, and it made Jacob a bit sad, but mostly happy.

No one said a thing when they ate — everyone just shoving food into their mouths. The Judges circled the bonfire, eyeing each other, hoping to get scraps. Jacob sighed every time Hyrum started to coo and throw pieces of meat to the wolves. Most of his food he fed to the dumbass Judge, who he’d named Baby for some reason beyond Jacob. Cooing softly, Hyrum handed his bowl to Baby and grinned when Jacob scoffed at him.

“You’re pampering her,” the soldier muttered. Hyrum stuck out his tongue and said, “You can lick something too.” He said it under his breath, but judging the way Joseph suddenly coughed and heaved, he’d heard.

Later when John was drunk as a skunk he suddenly walked up to Hyrum. “I think,” he started, slurring ever so slightly, his hand on Hyrum’s shoulder. “That you’re great.” He stepped away, swaying and muttering something to himself. He staggered to Joseph and dropped to his knees next to him. His jeans soaked up the water from the ground but he didn’t care, he just took his brother’s hands and sighed.

“What is it?” Joseph asked, his head tilted. Rook had his hand on his thigh, and he dithered, before leaving it to lay there, a cigarette parked between his lips. He wasn’t afraid of their love. And he knew that Joseph was neither.

“It’s funny. I saw a dream about this.”

“Dream?”

John frowned. “Dreams,” he slurred loudly. “About this bonfire. Fucking annoying. Kept pestering me…” He continued talking, but it was all jumbled up so Joseph couldn’t understand anything. He just hummed and threw a meaningful glance at Rook. His lover raised a brow and whispered around the cigarette, “A vision?” Joseph nodded. Rook’s eyes flew open and he turned to look at John. A crying, muddy, drunk John Seed. He couldn’t help but smile. He was drunk too, and at that moment he loved John. He loved his blue eyes, his neatly trimmed beard, well not so neatly trimmed anymore, and his tattoos, and his smile. Rook snickered and pinched his brow.

“I’m so drunk,” he said. “John, let’s go and have a smoke.” He got to his feet, the cigarette still hanging from the corner of his mouth, and tore the slobbering baptist farther from his lover. Joseph had no idea how the two men managed to keep upright, but they did. Jacob smiled at him over Hyrum’s shoulder. Joseph smiled back and he felt like his heart was about to break from happiness when Hyrum suddenly threaded a hand amidst Jacob’s beard, forcing their eyes to meet, and kissed him. When the kiss grew hungrier and the kid began to climb into Jacob’s lap, Joseph looked away, his cheeks red. He could hear a thump, and then his brother’s bellowing laughter echoing in the cold night air. He was curious, so he glanced at them, and he saw that Hyrum had managed to knock them off from the log they were sitting on. They were on the ground, Jacob laughing, and Hyrum burying his face into the soldier’s chest.

“Dumbass,” Jacob howled and wrapped his arms around the kid. “Ever heard of gravity?”

They kissed again, Hyrum’s fingers digging into the mud next to Jacob’s head.

***

Jacob had forgotten about the letter. But then the sound of something crumbling in his pocket caught his attention. His fingers met the paper which he’d moved to his front pocket sometime during the night, and he remembered it again. He pulled it out, waiting for something flashy. But it was just a few pieces of lined paper folded into a neat rectangle. He sat down on his bed and unfolded them. The smell of smoke was still lingering on his beard and his clothes, swirling around him. He rolled his shoulders and thought that he surely had time before Hyrum was done with extinguishing the bonfire. He and Joseph were the only ones sober enough to do it — John and Rook were talking loudly just outside the bunker, clinging onto each other, their drunken drawls mixing into incomprehensible babbling. Jacob knew he was a bit drunk too, but it didn’t matter, so he began to read.

_ Dear Jacob _

_ Wow, that sounds formal. And weird. But I haven’t written a letter in… ever? I know I was gone for a long time. And yes, to me two months is a long time. I wanted to tell you certain things because I feel that you deserve to know them. I truly do love you, you know? That part is 100% true. I’m sure of it. God has led me here. Led me to you. Keith was the first person I truly loved. And now I feel the same about you. Sounds weird, I know. But… We were meant to be, and I know it sounds corny, but hear me out okay? Don’t judge me just yet. _

Jacob bit his tongue and cleared his throat. He wasn’t going to cry — for fuck’s sake, he didn’t even know  _ why _ he felt like crying. There wasn’t a single cell in his body that was judging Hyrum. He continued reading, his eyes prickling.

_ I spoke about Keith to you, not much, but still. Did you know that we spent one summer in Georgia? I was twenty, and I was still studying. But I was doing some volunteer work there. That was the best summer of my life. We and Keith had so much fun back then. I was sober for over two months. Didn’t drink, or use anything. I didn’t even smoke. It was heaven. I worked at a homeless shelter in Rome. Do you know where I’m going with this? Do you already guess what I’m gonna say next? I hope you do. _

Jacob’s blood ran cold. He had an inkling he knew what was coming next, and it made his head spin and his stomach twist into a tight knot. He drew a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. It wasn’t possible. Or was it? He opened them again, focusing his gaze on the words written with an ordinary ballpoint pen. But the words themselves weren’t ordinary — far from it.

_ You were there, weren’t you, Jake? In that homeless shelter? Remember how I used to play Johnny Cash on my guitar? Or how I used to play the piano? John Lennon. Or the Beatles. Or Billy Joel. Or classical music, even though I disliked classical music (I still dislike it). But you asked for it. Beethoven, Bach… You asked me to play them. By the end of the summer, I was so sick of Moonlight Sonata that I felt like screaming. _

_ It was eight years ago. June and July. Do you remember it? I hope that you do. I had black hair back then. And I was always smiling and laughing. It was just a mask I put on because I was severely depressed then. It was still heaven. Depression is  _ _ nothing _ _ compared to addiction. One night, about a week before I was to leave back to Utah, you came to me and asked me to play Imagine by Lennon. I did. And I sang it to you. There were others, but… I focused on you. You were so kind. So warm. You were always helping others, weren’t you? It wasn’t your job, you had no obligation to help but… You did. Why? _

_ It feels so weird to think, that the man I met in Georgia in 2010 is a totally different Jacob than the one I met in Hope County. What happened? With your brother? What did he do to you? You said that you were done with war. You said you were done fighting. Done struggling. You told me that you would never raise a hand against anyone ever again. And then I saw you in Hope County and I was saddened… You were a changed man. You became a soldier again. For your brother. Why? I don’t understand. Granted, I never had a good relationship with my brother or sisters. They were so much older than I was so maybe I can’t understand it. It’s like I never had any siblings, that’s how distant they were. _

_ About Keith… When he died he was in a bad shape. Nearly dead. I killed him. Some would call it mercy killing or euthanasia. But I killed him. He asked me to. Six months before he died actually. I had just gotten engaged with Jonathan. That’s when he found out that it was too late to do anything. AIDS is a bitch of an illness. Well, Keith asked me to end his life when it was time. And one night in June I went to see him and… I did it. With morphine. Finished him. Fulfilled my promise. I was loyal to him until the very end, but… somehow I feel guilty. I hope you won’t judge me too harshly. I could explain and give reasons as to why I did it. But I won’t. Unless you wanna hear them. I can give you two reasons; one is personal and another one is professional. _

_ When he died, I ran. I spent two months drinking and doing drugs. I told no one. I took time off work and I left for Ibiza. My cousin lived there back then (he’s dead now, bless his soul). Perks of being a rich bitch, I guess. We partied every single night. I fucked everything and everyone I met. Even my cousin. I’m telling you this because I talked with Teddy. I was a slut. I’m ashamed of my past and everything I’ve done. Sex was meaningless for me. It always has been. It wasn’t with Keith, though. Never with him. And I feel like it won’t be with you. _

_ Teddy told me you warm up slowly. And that sex is… almost sacred to you. He refused to tell the details but he did say that you’ve had sex with three people in your life. I’m not judging. I think it’s great. He didn’t tell me who, he just said that there were three people. Your number is three. Do you wish to know mine? Here it is; it’s somewhere in the three digits. I lost count years ago, around eighty, or so. I was nineteen. I got mixed in some bad company, I know. It pains me to remember those times. _

_ I will wait. Because you’re all that I have. You and Rook and Joseph and John. Yes, even John. I’m afraid of him but he’s your brother so I’m ready to put in the work. And I hope he’ll feel better soon. You should talk to him, though. He’s hurting himself, and it will spiral out of control soon. That’s all I can tell you. I’m not blind. I have a keen eye when it comes to things like this. _

_ These two months were pure torture for me. My friend got pissed at me because I saved you. That’s why I left the Whitetails. Then I took a detour. Then I came back here. As I’m writing this right now, I’m having the worst time of my life. These fucking withdrawals. One of the worst I’ve had. I’ll take something for them. I’m sorry that I will. Well, I guess I deserve them. I’m an addict. That’s what I’ll always be. I hope that one day I’ll stop chasing the next high, the next pill, the next needle. I’ve been using drugs for fifteen years. I took my first hit when I was thirteen. Can you imagine? A thirteen-year-old kid doing drugs. It sounds so absurd now. But a friend offered and I took it. It was ecstasy, I think. I didn’t ask. I wish I wouldn’t have done it. I hate this. I hate everything about this. That’s a lie. I don’t know why I lied. _

_ Truth is… that drugs can make you levitate, they can take you straight to heaven. It’s amazing. That’s what I love about them. I can forget everything, or enhance my senses. I can make everything look a thousand times better with drugs. I didn’t have a nice childhood. My father was extremely controlling. I hated it. I hated him. My mom was alright (my biological mom that is). My other mom wasn’t. I hated her. They wanted me to become like them. Instead, I ended up an addict. A failure. A fucking queer bitch who knows only how to spread his legs to every single person he meets. I’m sorry. _

_ If there was something my father got right, it was this; “God has a plan for you, Hyrum. Just wait for the sign”. I never understood what that sign was. Not until I met you again. You must’ve wondered why I warmed up to you so quickly. That is because I fell in love with you a bit all those years ago. No, that’s a lie too. I fell for you hook, line, and sinker. The same thing happened with Keith. And look where we ended up. Nine years I loved him. I was with him through it all. And he was with me through it all. He paid for my rehab once (cost him a fortune). Waste of money that was. I relapsed when I found out about it. And that’s the reason he didn’t have money for his meds. That was the  _ _ biggest _ _ reason. Not the only one. But the biggest. Can you imagine how it makes me feel, even now, all these years later? _

_ It kills me. It hurts so fucking bad. My nightmares won’t leave me alone. They keep haunting me wherever I go. But they cease when I’m with you. I shouldn’t have left. Do you know why I left? It wasn’t solely because I was scared of John. It was because I was scared of myself. Of what I might do. I didn’t wish to hurt you or anyone else. It’s like I have the reverse Midas touch. Everything I touch turns to shit. _

_ I killed Keith. Indirectly. And directly. I just hope that the same thing won’t happen to you. _

_ I’ve mentioned my ex. Jonathan. He was abusive. But he was smart. The bruises were always hidden underneath my work clothes. Except for the one time he strangled me and I had to take time off for two weeks. I don’t know why I’m telling you this… He was violent. But not without reason. He always had a reason. That’s what he told me. He hated Keith. He hated how much I loved him. Jonathan had no idea how much I loved him. I’m glad that he left me. Because that’s the reason we met again. _

_ We lived in Salt Lake City for a few years. We had a fancy apartment that we bought. We had our own interior designer (that’s how ‘fancy’ we were). Jonathan held a lot of parties. After them, he would beat me up. Drunk and high on something. I was drunk and high too. I can just remember how numb I was. One time he fractured my ribs. I didn’t leave him. I don’t know why. I had enough money to leave. But… I stayed. I really thought I deserved it all. _

_ When you’ve read this, come talk to me. Let’s talk things through. I wanna try. I wanna fight beside you. I love you. I want you to hold me tonight. Even if it’s the last time, don’t tell me. Just hold me. Because that’s all I can ask. And even that is too much. _

_ I’m sorry this is so damn long. I have a lot to tell you. This is just the tip of the iceberg. _

_ — Hyrum _

_ P.S. Johnny Cash once sang; _

_ “The taste of love is sweet / When hearts like ours meet / I fell for you like a child / Oh, but the fire went wild” _

_ That’s how I feel. I hope it makes sense to you. It’s your favorite, isn’t it? _

_ P.P.S. I left a bunch of letters (and two of my diaries) to you that I wrote during this time (and back when we first met in Georgia). They’re in my backpack. Just take them. And read them. Or burn them. I don’t care. But… I would appreciate if you’d read them. _

_ P.P.P.S. I can hear you coming, Jake. What’s that song you’re humming? _

Jacob stood and was about to head outside to find Hyrum when he heard a gunshot. He instantly recognized it belonging to a high caliber rifle, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Why was someone shooting? The hairs on his neck stood up and he felt queasy. Then a loud scream split the silence — John. The letter fell from Jacob’s hands as he darted out of his bedroom, his heart tearing through his chest. He ran into John in the stairs, and his brother’s shirt was covered in blood, his eyes wide and his face pale. For a split second they just stared at each other, but then John wailed and grabbed Jacob by his arms, violently trembling and gasping for breath.

“They shot him!” he screamed. “They fucking shot him!” He was drunk and hysterical.

“Shot who?” Jacob asked, forcing his voice level just to have some sort of control over the situation he knew nothing about.

“Hyrum,” John said, sheer terror written across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger. I'll be releasing an epilogue later this year (yes, before nye).  
Tell me what you thought, and as always, thank you for reading! <3 Leave a kudos or a comment if you can.  
xoxo  
My tumblr is: wolfnotadevil (I'm always eager to talk to people, so hmu if you want to!!)
> 
> \- Toivo


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue. Enjoy my lovely readers.  
Sorry about the cliffhanger lol. Well, you didn't need to wait for a conclusion for long so I hope I'm forgiven.

** _8 months later_ **

** _June 2nd, 2019 — somewhere outside Hope County, Montana_ **

Jacob sat in front of the fireplace, crossed his legs and flipped open the worn diary he’d read multiple times. Nothing made sense to him, and the guilt and fear still resonated inside his chest, pulsating at the rhythm of his heart. He felt like nothing could take it away, that nothing could ease it, that nothing could lessen the pain he was feeling. That day in the middle of September seemed so far away. Especially after everything they had been through in the past months. He leafed through the diary and went back nine years to read the first mention of himself, written with Hyrum’s neat handwriting.

_ June 4th, 2010 _

_ I know I’ve seen that guy just a few times and even Keith thinks I’m crazy, but there’s something about him. I know that when I leave at the end of July, I’ll most likely forget about him and I’ll never see him again. But fuck. He is so… different. It’s difficult to explain. I can only say this; hook, line and sinker. I’m fucked. Well. I guess that’s it for today. Thirteen days sober. Feels good. I wish this summer would never end. _

Jacob tore the page out and threw it in the fireplace. He knew it was time to leave the past behind for good. For months he’d been hanging onto the past, and it was a problem, but he knew that now was the time to finally let go. In nine years everything had changed. For the better, and for the worse.

_ July 18th, 2017 _

_ It’s him. It’s the same guy. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. I’m sure he’s the same guy that I met back in 2010. I’d recognize those scars anywhere. And that voice. I thought I was dying when I heard it the first time here, in Hope County, fucking Montana. I was sure someone noticed how nervous I was upon seeing him barking orders at someone. That guy I fell for hook, line, and sinker is here. How can I fight against him when I still love him? Or do I? Fuck if I know. I wish Keith was here. He’d know. _

_ January 13th, 2018 _

_ Saved a Peggie today. He was shot. He told me his name is Teddy. Handsome guy. A fucking huge guy. He didn’t hurt me. Guess they’re not all bad. I guess I could say I’m having doubts about all this. Joseph is making a lot of sense these days. _

Jacob stared at the words, and he tore the page out and threw it in the fireplace. For some reason, he kept reading, even though every word was like a bullet through his heart. But a part of him wanted to go through it all again. Those long, dull days spent trapped in that bunker with Hyrum. It was unbelievable how many years the kid had been in love with him. It was almost surreal.

_ April 17th, 2018 _

_ Great. I’m stuck with JS. Should I kill him? Or myself? I saved him. Why? I hate myself. Btw the Collapse came. Joseph was right. Shit. _

_ April 20th, 2018 _

_ Fuck you JS. You are weak. Not me. Caring is not a weakness. Asshole. _

_ May 1st, 2018 _

_ JS is sick. I’m worried. Sang for the first time since Keith died. It was… good. I’m happy it was to JS. _

_ May 8th, 2018 _

_ I kissed JS. Hook, line, and sinker. Great job, Hyrum. You idiot. _

Jacob chuckled. He still remembered how good and weird the kiss had been. He should’ve noticed that there was something else behind that kiss than just a need to distract.

_ May 31st, 2018 _

_ Happy bday to me, happy bday to me. Relapsed. I miss Keith. Kissed JS again. He let me. He liked it. If you’re reading this Jake, don’t think I don’t know what you did after. I heard you. And I loved it. _

It took Jacob a few minutes to remember what he’d done after — then he blushed. It was absurd for him to think that Hyrum had been writing a diary all that time. He’d never seen him write anything. But maybe he’d been hiding it on purpose.

_ July 1st, 2018 _

_ Almost told JS I loved him. But I was too scared. Fuck you John Seed. You drove me away. I hope you fucking die a painful death you piece of useless garbage I fucking hate you. I HATE YOU. _

_ July 8th, 2018 _

_ Guess who I met today?  _ _ Teddy! _ _ He’s a great guy. Told him where to find JS. Dunno why. Okay. I know why. I love him. _

_ August 15th, 2018 _

_ Told Brooke about JS. She called him a psycho. I’ve been trying to kill myself lately. It’s slow. But I think it’s not working cos I’m outta drugs. Thanks, Brooke. And fuck you. Thought you were my friend. _

_ September 4th, 2018 _

_ Finally. I told JS I love him. Now I’m back here and it feels like I’ve come home. I’m fucked. Well, I guess Keith was right. He once told me (after I’d complained to him again about my shitty friends) this; in hell you’ll be in good company. If this is hell, I’m not fucking leaving. Ever. _

_ September 17th, 2018 _

_ Bonfire?? Alright. I love JS. I really do. I wrote him a letter. I hope he doesn’t think I’m an idiot. Well. I gave it to him already. I hope Keith can forgive me for loving another man. Oh, Jake? Addition to my letter; P.P.P.P.S. I want you to make love to me in the dark. Corny. Yes. But that’s me. A romantic. Guess that’s something you don’t know about me. _

With a hiss, Jacob slammed the diary shut and chucked it into the flames. He picked up the pile of letters and hesitated. But then he winced and threw them into the fireplace also. No need to read them for the umpteenth time. Burning everything didn’t ease his suffering — maybe it was because he still had  _ that _ letter left. Untouched, shielded by an envelope and plastic. So he could always carry it with him. A reminder of his failure.

“I can’t sleep,” John suddenly said behind him. He came closer and sat down. With a sigh, he leaned against his brother and closed his eyes. He was pale and sweaty, and the light dancing on his face deepened the shadows under his eyes. It was an extremely hot night, but the flames brought Jacob comfort, so he’d opted to light the fireplace it a few hours prior.

“Nightmares?”

“Yeah.”

Jacob wrapped an arm around his brother. “I love you. Forgive yourself already. It wasn’t your fault. It was no one’s fault. Well, except for the guy who—”

“No,” John snapped. “I scared Hyrum and he ran. If I hadn’t done that he wouldn’t have been shot.”

“No. You weren’t the reason he left,” Jacob assured for the hundredth time and pressed a kiss on the top of John’s head. “I don’t hate you. No one does.”

“Will the guilt go away?”

“Yes, yes it will.”

John opened his mouth to say something, maybe to disagree with his brother, but then a familiar voice said, “Stop moping already you two. You’re acting like someone died.”

Jacob sighed and glanced over his shoulder. “You almost did, kiddo.”

“I know,” Hyrum muttered as he walked closer, his attention already elsewhere. “Wanna say hi to daddy, do you?” he said softly, addressing his words to his daughter he was cradling in his arms.

“How’d she sleep?” Jacob asked as he jumped up, ruffling his brother’s hair as he did. He closed the gap between him and his lover, before placing one hand protectively over the baby’s head. He was still having trouble understanding that Hyrum was willing to share his parenthood with him. Two months and he still couldn’t believe he technically had a child. Well, it was difficult to understand that Hyrum was a father. But parenthood suited him. Jacob had never seen him so in tune with everything, so calm and at peace.

“She slept like an angel, didn’t ya?” Hyrum cooed. “Joseph was asking about a name,” he continued as Jacob took the baby from him. “Remember to support her neck.”

Jacob shot him a nasty look. “Naturally.”

“Sorry.”

“Is there enough formula?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. Rook and Joseph are gonna go and get more later this week.”

“Have you heard from Brooke?”

“No,” Hyrum said, his fingers threaded amidst his daughter’s dark-brown hair. “But it’s fine. She didn’t want any kids. I won’t force her. But if she wants to be a part of her life, then… Yeah. Of course, I’ll let her.”

“A name, huh?” Jacob asked, switching the subject when he saw the frustration in his lover’s eyes. He hummed and said, “We talked about Eden, so… It would be perfect.”

“I was thinking the same, actually. But maybe as a second name? The first could be… Well, Jossilyn.” Hyrum shrugged his shoulders as if he wasn’t really even serious about the suggestion. “It was my mother’s name.”

“Jossilyn Eden Young.” Jacob smiled. “It sounds nice.”

Hyrum chuckled. Then he blushed. “No,” he said slowly. “I was thinking of Jossilyn Eden Seed.”

The soldier frowned and tilted his head in confusion. “Wait is that—” he started, his eyes wide.

“That’s a yes. For your question. Yes, of course, I will marry you.”

John stirred as he heard the words. He stumbled as he got to his feet. “What?” he asked, his eyes darting back and forth. “When did he propose? Why didn’t I hear about this?”

Hyrum flicked his eyes to him. “A few days ago. I needed to think about it. There’s still a lot to talk about, and I wanted to be sure. But it’s the next natural step after joining you guys.”

“I’m glad you did,” Jacob said and stepped closer to lean his forehead against Hyrum’s. “I love you.”

“And I love you too. But I need breakfast. Even with Joseph helping it seems like I’m up a hundred times a night.”

“He isn’t bothering you, is he? I can tell him to stop.”

“Of course not. He’s excited. Let him help. John, wanna fix breakfast with me?”

The baptist nodded enthusiastically, forgetting all about his guilt and anxiety as he laid his eyes on his niece. “Can I hold her later?” he asked, addressing his words to Hyrum.

“Of course. You don’t need permission to do so,” he replied and shook his head. “I’ve told you a million times that I trust her with you.” He smiled and reached his hand. “Come on. Let’s make that breakfast. I don’t understand you Seeds. Always up before the break of dawn.”

“You’re also up,” Jacob said softly, his eyes half-lidded as he kissed his daughter’s head.

Hyrum opened his mouth to argue, but John interrupted him, “So, wedding,” he started as he took Hyrum’s hand. “I have some ideas,” he continued. Then he grinned and whispered, “I know you’re nervous about the wedding night.”

“Are you just gonna leave me alone with him? I’m suffering already,” Hyrum said jokingly. Jacob glanced at him and said, “Yup. We’re gonna go and sit outside for a moment. Scream if you need my help. I might come.”

“Might. How reassuring,” his lover replied with a wide smile on his face. He flicked his eyes to John and added, “Can you believe I’m engaged to that guy? I’m out of my mind.”

“Aren’t we all,” the baptist laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could go on and on about how long and amazing this journey has been. I'm planning the next part of Long Road to Eden, and I truly hope I can publish it at some point. Now I'm gonna just relax and spend time with my dogs and my spouse.
> 
> Thank you for all my readers, especially Nate. Dude, you've been so amazing and it's been a joy getting to know you.
> 
> I love you all. From the bottom of my heart: THANK YOU FOR READING. <3


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